Different Directions
by Emmithar
Summary: Robin suddenly finds himself in a different world, a twist of time, in where he did not travel the Holy Land. While it gives him what he wants the most, a life with Marian, he soon discovers that Nottinghamshire is far worse than he had ever imagined
1. Chapter 1

**Different Directions**

**Rating: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing that is recognizable ;)**

**Summary: **Robin suddenly finds himself in a different world, a twist of time, in where he did not travel the Holy Land. While it gives him what he wants the most, a life with Marian, he soon discovers that life in Nottinghamshire is far worse than he had ever imagined. Being used as a pawn by the sheriff, Robin must find a way to right the wrongs, but furthermore try to discover what happened to his previous life, or if this new reality always was the way things were...

**Notes: **For those of you waiting for an update to 'It's Not Easy', I hope to have another chapter up soon. Meanwhile, this is the 'reveal' for the BigBang I have been working on throughout the last few months. It still is technically a work in progress, but I'm hoping to keep up with regular updates.

:)

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

Night in Sherwood Forest, at its best, was a calm and inviting atmosphere. And on the best of nights, the moon shone brightly in the sky, watching over the inhabitants that lived there. There was no arguing: it was a place for one to find solitude, and more importantly, peace.

Yet for Robin, that was something he would never find, or so he believed. Nearly half a year had gone by now since Marian's death, and with each passing day it became harder, not easier, to deal with. While his men had been supportive of him, there was little help they could offer. How could he explain to them something they would never understand?

Much had never had any family; he had made that quite clear on several occasions. The closest thing he had to a family was the few outlaws that resided in the forest now, and even then the man didn't particularly like all of them there. Least of all Allan.

Robin couldn't blame them… Allan had been quick with his tongue, having betrayed them all. Robin was not a forgiving man when it came to truth and loyalty, and the reason Allan still remained with them was because of the fact that Robin no longer cared. Gisborne's former 'puppet' more in likely took that fact for granted, but that was his own fault, not Robin's.

For John… the man might understand. He, after all, did have a wife and a son… at least he had been able to spend some time with her. At least she was still alive…

Robin let out a sigh, closing his eyes. He couldn't continue like this; it was slowly tearing him apart. The grief simply refused to go away, and it consumed him more with each passing moment. One day… some day, he wouldn't be able to go on.

Robin hardly saw his men as it was, and no longer went with them to make the drops. The only interest he had was in traveling to the castle, or to Locksley, hoping for a chance of finding Gisborne or Vaizey alone. It was a futile hope, of course. They were always surrounded by more guards, consolidating their position. They knew that he would be after them, and they were ready. Then there were his men.

He wouldn't admit it, but that was the true reason both Gisborne and the sheriff were even still alive. They had been the force that had held him back from doing anything reckless. Revenge had been the only thing on his mind, but not even he could say no to the desperate pleas of his men. Or to thoughts of Marian.

'_You keep fighting for me'_

He had tried…a promise made to the one he loved as she died, and the only thing he could offer was that he had tried. If only she knew…

His eyes turned upward, watching the moon glisten in the night sky. Perhaps she did know, perhaps she was watching over him. Did she feel the grief, he wondered? Could she possibly know what it felt like to lose her? To never have been able to hold her, and love her as a proper husband should? He watched; saddened as the light of the moon began to disappear, as the clouds began to drift overhead. Now not even the moon would grant him any company.

But the footsteps could be heard even as the rain began to fall and Robin turned to meet his men as they came up behind him. Without Will and Djaq it seemed as though their group was almost nothing. So small and so quiet, the very heart of the group gone. Or was it his own pain that was speaking?

"We go?"

John had been the one to break the silence, whereas Much and Allan had waited quietly. The change he knew had been hardest on Much, his loyal friend. Robin knew he had shied away from him immensely, but there was little he could do to change that matter. How long would it be before the man left as well, either by incident or his own will? Robin could not handle much more pain in the aspect of loss, and felt more secure in sticking to his own resources, and handling his feelings on his own. That was why he had kept to himself; there could be no pain if he did not care.

Still he could see the fatigue in all of them; they too had difficulty sleeping, and had been wandering, seemingly lost for as long as Robin had been. Returning to the camp was always hard for Robin, for he would see who would not be there. Though it had only been for a short time, it had been an unimaginable bliss to be so near Marian, to have, even for a mere moment, pretended it was real, and he wondered what life would have been like if only he had taken that chance.

Now that bedroll would never be filled again. It was a despairing thought, but one that was true no matter how he tried to change it. Slowly he nodded, knowing that his men were still waiting for an answer. They would not leave him behind on their own will, he knew. Sometimes loyalty hurt as much as betrayal.

"I need a moment," he told them quietly.

"Are you sure?" Much asked.

Once again Robin nodded, forcing a sad smile. "I will be there, my friend."

The look on his face suggested that he wasn't all that convinced, but tonight the weather was on his side. With the rain the remainder of the group wasn't willing to stay for much longer, and Robin found himself alone once again. Having a choice, he would rather stay here until the morning broke, or maybe even forever. Marian consumed his thoughts, and it was difficult to think of anything else.

It was the same with the war… but with the war he had been able to push it out of his mind. There was no need for him to remember it, yet he could not do the same with Marian. He could not just forget her, but he could not speak of her either. Not without coming undone, the only thing that was saving his sanity was the simple fact that he had kept everything inside thus far. If he could do it long enough… eventually the feeling would fade. It had to… didn't it?

It was the cry that first reached his ears, pulling him from his trance. The rain now fell in heavy streaks, soaking his clothes, and dripping from his hair. The sound itself was an inconstant wail, and could hardly be heard over the brewing storm. But it was there, unmistakably.

Robin turned towards it, his eyes searching the darkness. His men had already returned to the camp; there were no signs of them, and the crying continued. Gradually Robin worked his way to his feet, stretching his legs, trying to work the stiffness out of them. He had been sitting there for so long now…

In the darkness, with the coming storm, navigating through the forest wasn't the best of ideas. It could be treacherous during the day; Robin and his men had found that out more than once now, but thankfully none of the falls they had taken had been too devastating. Then again, maybe their bodies had simply become used to the precarious life they lived out here in the woods.

With slow, deliberate movements Robin made his way towards the sound, now heading east to where the forest began to thicken. He had no torch to see by, and so used his hands, feeling from one tree to the next. They grew close enough now for this very method to work, but it wouldn't always, he knew. The sound of running water caught his ears, and he knew now where he was.

There was a steep ravine, not far from their camp that collected with water during the winter months. It was a small creek, hardly a river, but more than a gentle stream that would overflow as gravity took over, drawing the moisture to the very bottom. It was a fabulous source of water for them all, the stream drying up in the summer to leave only small pockets of water that were easy to collect from, and fill their flasks.

Robin also knew how treacherous it was to travel along here, even more so in the dead of the night. He could remember the times spent between the group working their way around on the long side, to where the ravine went down in a gentle slope rather than a sharp drop. Edging as close as he dared, Robin held fast to a branch of a tree, gazing down into the void below.

There was nothing to be seen, but the cry could still be heard, the wailing coming in short bursts. Then there was something else, hardly to be heard over the first cry, but Robin's ears were sharp, and his mind even sharper.

"Who is there?"

He had called out, projecting his voice as much as he could as the first clash of thunder roared over him. His cry or the crash of thunder only provoked a greater response, drowning out any kind of communication. So he called again, this time a small smile crossing his lips as he heard the response.

"Help…my baby…we fell!"

This time a flash of lightning shot across the skies, chasing away the darkness for a brief moment. Within that short time Robin had been able to see the broken carriage at the bottom, split open from the fall. How they ever survived it, Robin could not be sure. Another cry of thunder, and he waited till it died down before calling back out.

Carefully he backed up. Robin knew he would have to go around, and even then it would still be dangerous. The rocks about the edge were slick now that they were drenched, and twice he almost fell. Once on firm footing again, Robin brought his fingers to his lips, letting out a sharp whistle. With any luck his men would hear, and respond within a short time. They were probably already looking for him, Robin's promise to follow soon well gone. This time loyalty was on his side. Robin hoped it was so; he could not rescue them on his own, but neither could he just abandon woman and child.

The water would be rising quickly now with the onset of the rain, and with the fall they had taken there was sure to be some injuries. The clamor of the storm had shielded most of her voice, and Robin could not judge her condition from sound alone. He needed to get down there.

Another stop, another sharp whistle, Robin praying one of them would hear. He would wait as long as he could, trusting to do more with help, but he could not wait forever. Slowly he made his way around, listening to the fading cries from the child below.

By now he was nearly on his hands and knees, keeping low to the ground as he worked his way across it. Here the ground should start sloping downwards, leading him towards the bottom. Again lightning streaked across the sky, giving him a momentary visual, but it was enough to determine where he was. Robin pushed forward, calling out again as the thunder rolled by. He was encouraged by the response from the woman, and braced himself against a tree as he began his descent.

Leaves coated the ground thickly, water trapped in-between their layers, making for dangerous grounds, his feet continually sliding down the wet side. Robin relied heavily on his upper body strength, holding onto limbs and roots as he half walked, half slid down the side.

It was when he was halfway down that his worst fear was confirmed. Moving down he grasped a new root, letting gravity pull his weight down till he found another. But the weight was too much, and the fragile twig snapped, sending him down the side at an alarming speed. Blindly he shot his hands out, reaching and grasping for anything that would help him as he began to roll, instead of slide.

The layer of leaves that coated the ground helped to cushion his fall, but they also caused him to accelerate, causing little friction, and offering no hand or footholds as he fell. Time after time he reached out, coming back up with only a handful of leaves and mud. Then his hand snagged something solid, and his fingers wrapped about it tightly, bringing him to a gut-wrenching stop.

He silenced the cry of pain that threatened to cross his lips as his weight jarred on his shoulder unnaturally, bringing to it an unnatural burning warmth. Robin dug the toes of his boots into the drenched side, failing to get any good hold. It was two more tries before he succeeded, reaching up with his other hand to grab the protruding branch, and ease the weight off his now throbbing shoulder.

Quietly he laughed to himself, shaking his head as he caught his breath. That had been a little too close for comfort. Then he did something he normally did not allow himself to do. He rested, for a short a moment, in order to regain his courage.

That was something that had slipped away quickly after leaving the Holy Lands. He knew the promise he had made Marian, but he also knew the promise inside his own heart. He wasn't strong enough to fight without her. The thought scared him, shook him to the core as he clung to the side of the small valley, lost and desperate as a little child without his mother.

The mother and her child… Robin knew they needed help, and were counting on him despite his fears and worries. Slowly he nodded, and then started to move again, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. It was not broken, nor dislocated, for which he was lucky, otherwise he knew this rescue might be problematic. Yet this wasn't the only problem on his hands.

How exactly was he going to get them back up in all of this? There wasn't a way, he knew, logically. He would have to find them, get them high enough to avoid the rising waters until the storm had passed, and they would climb out in the morning. At the very least they wouldn't have to spend the night alone.

The chill of the water greeted him, signaling that he had reached the bottom, and confidently Robin let go, letting out a slight gasp as the water came up to his waist. Already the water had risen significantly, and would continue to do so. He had to move, and quickly.

Now down at the bottom he could hear them easily. Robin took care in wading across the deepened stream, the water brushing around him gently as it flowed. That was something to be thankful for, but even still Robin took his steps carefully, knowing that water could be your enemy as much as your friend.

With each step, however, he could feel the level of the water drop as he neared the other side. Soon Robin was hauling himself up onto dry banks… as dry as they could possibly be in such weather. The sky was lit up again, and Robin made his way quickly under the large rock outcropping near the broken carriage. It was the same rock he had been on top of several moments ago.

The whistle caught his ears, bringing a sudden smile to his lips. Robin returned one in the same fashion, calling up to his men with what had happened. It was brief, half-drowned out by the storm, but he knew his men well. There was no need to tell them what to do, they were already moving. Satisfied now, Robin stumbled under the rock, out of the rain to where the frightened woman sat, holding her baby tightly.

"It's alright," Robin reassured her as he drew closer. "What is your name?"

"Ann," she breathed, "my baby Mathew… are we going to die?"

Robin his shook head, smiling at her, "No."

He reached out, pressing the palm of his hand against her forehead, whispering quiet reassurances as she flinched. There was a cut there, and in the darkness it wasn't easy to tell the severity of it, but it didn't feel deep, and it had long ago stopped bleeding. "What happened?"

"We were…going to…to Clun, and the horses, the storm…they were spooked, they drew to close to the side…"

"You were not alone?"

Ann shook her head, letting out a cry. "Thomas, my husband…"

"Alright," Robin withdrew his hand, watching her. "It will be alright. My men and I will get you out of here, and see you safely to Clun. Do you have family there?"

"My aunt," she whispered softly. "She was expecting us tonight…she will be worried."

A soft thud sounded behind him, and Robin turned, barely seeing the rope that swayed in the air. His men were faster than he thought. "We are going now," he told her, "Let me see Mathew."

Instinctively she tightened up on the infant as he reached out, and he couldn't blame her. Having survived death and now confronted by a stranger, she wasn't going to be so entirely trusting at the first moment. "I need for you to go up first, I will be right behind you with him, you have my word."

"How…do I know that…your word is true?"

"I am Robin Hood," he told her, smiling.

She was quiet, save for the gentle sniffles, and finally she nodded. "I have heard…stories, about you. People, they trust you…and so will I."

The child began crying again as he left his mother's warm embrace, but Robin held him in a firm yet secure grasp, quieting the lad as he helped Ann to her feet. Shielding the baby from the onset of rain, Robin helped the young woman maneuver into a makeshift harness, calling up to his men that they were ready.

Robin watched as she was lifted slowly, until he could see her no more. But he could hear her voice, and he listened as his men worked to pull her up. Though he knew they were hurrying, Robin was beginning to worry. The water had still been rising, and now lapped at his ankles. He called up to his gang, moving against the wall as much as he could, still cradling Mathew in his arms.

More time passed, and it seemed as though the storm only grew fiercer. Robin knew these were the worst of nights, the nights they should be safely tucked away at camp, instead of trapped in the onslaught of the storm itself. As much as he hated these nights, he was now desperately wishing that he would live to see another.

And then the rope fell again. He could hear it splash into the water, and Robin wasted no time in moving out after it. The ties had been undone in order to free Ann, and Robin worked as best as he could to fashion another with his free hand, the water now at his knees.

He would have to settle with what he had. Slipping one foot into the jumbled knot, Robin grabbed the rope, shouting up an affirmative. As he was lifted, Robin used his free foot to push himself off the wall to avoid hitting it, holding Mathew close to his chest.

It had been a long drop, and coming up was slow going, but Robin couldn't wish for it to be much faster, not unless he wanted to risk harming the infant. Hard as it was now, he doubted speed would improve the matters. Then he felt the knot begin to slip. It was no longer a matter of preference.

He called the order up, trying to help propel himself upward by digging his free foot into the rocky wall. He could see the top now, the torches from his men glimmering brightly against the rain, chasing away the darkness. The knot was still slipping against his weight…if he could only hold on a little longer…

Then the knot gave way completely. The cries of his men intermixed with that of the mother, and Mathew's as he was jarred roughly. Feeling the change, Robin had done the last thing possible. He had let go of the rope, grabbing the rough surface instead. Hands grabbed onto him, barely reaching the sleeve of his shirt. Kicking out frantically, he managed to find the smallest of footholds, balancing his weight as he hoisted the infant up. "Take him," Robin cried.

They were able to reach him, and Robin let out a sigh of relief as Much wrapped his arms about the small bundle, pulling Mathew to safety. As for Robin, Allan still had him by the sleeve, but barely, and reached down with another hand, offering help. So was John, on the other side, and Robin reached out a hand, but quickly grabbed the ledge, as his feet slipped out under him.

Expecting to fall, he was quite surprised he didn't, Allan tightening his grip painfully. Robin winced at the pressure, but it was a small price to pay.

"The rope!" Much cried, "Grab the rope!"

He tried, trusting Allan's strength to hold as he reached out, but his weight was too far off balance. He would pull both of them down if he let go of the side completely. Instead he tried to wrap the lifeline around his legs, hoping to bring it closer.

Then someone else had him. Robin could feel the strong grip on the back of his hood, startling him slightly as the pressure closed around his neck.

"Choking," Robin warned, and felt the pressure change as John was able to reach further down, now grabbing him by the back of the cloak he wore. It was still painful, but not as bad as he began to move up the last few feet of the treacherous side.

"You always have to do this!" Much cried, "Why do you always have to do this?"

Robin didn't respond, only reaching out to pull himself up over the top. His heart was hammering inside his chest, and it was already hard to breathe. He wasn't going to waste what little breath he had left on answering. John, still holding onto his cloak, pulled him up the last bit, and though he could not feel the change, Robin could.

It was too much. Due to Robin's weight, the material being soaked thoroughly, the cloak gave way without warning. Having been nearly there Robin hadn't established a good hold, having trusted on the firm grip of both Allan and John. But Allan had let go as well, believing, as Robin had, that everything was now fine. He tried to reach out, tried to stop his descent, but it was already too late.

He was falling.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The light was the first thing he noticed. Then it was the pain, sharp and intense, driving into his head, fierce like a heartbeat. Keeping his eyes closed, he pressed the palms against his forehead with a groan, trying to flush out the deep ache. In his mind, fragments of memories clattered about, trying to feebly sort themselves out. What had happened?

Slowly Robin pulled his hands away, risking a glance about his surroundings. The last he remembered was being in the ravine, lost in the darkness and soaked thoroughly from the rain. Yet now…now he was dry, in a fresh change of clothes, resting on a bed placed inside a dimly lit room. It seemed strangely familiar.

The linen beneath him was real enough, Robin closing his fingers around the fine material as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. What he could not figure out was why or even how he had ended up here. His mind was quick, despite the injury, and Robin knew that whatever the cause, it could not be a good one. Even the best of intentions could turn out disastrously in the end.

Even as he struggled to make his way to his feet, his mind was working. The pain was as real as the place he was in, but he fought through it, knowing a simple lapse in judgment could be fatal. He remembered the ravine, remembered going down there for something…

Robin turned as the door opened, his hand reaching for the weapon by his side, perplexed to find it gone. He always slept with his weapons, should the need to use them ever arise. Yet they were not there, and he had no knowledge where they might possibly be. Turning, he faced the newcomer, ready to fight hand to hand if he had to, not knowing if this was a friend or foe.

But as quickly as the fear shot through him, it had died, Robin let out a sigh of relief as he met Much's gaze. If something had been amiss, Much would be the first to tell him so. His eyes, however, held a look of confusion, the man stopping by the open door, watching him.

"Master…we…ah, I did not expect you to be up so soon."

"What is going on?" Robin asked quietly, moving closer to him. "What happened?"

"You…well, you had an upset," Much explained quickly, stuttering over his words. "A little bit of a fall, that's all, but Master, you shouldn't be up…you should be resting."

"A fall?" Robin asked, his hand reaching out to the wall for support. He had fallen…he could remember now, the mother, and her child…what was his name?

"Mathew," Robin murmured quietly. That was what his name was. He glanced back up, "Is he okay?"

The man looked at him, baffled now. "Mathew?"

"The baby," Robin pressed, letting out a sigh. Though he had not been able to tell his men the child's name Robin was certain the mother would have. With Much though, it was sometimes the simple things that slipped his mind.

"The baby," Much nodded, understanding now. "He is…he is doing well. I mean…he will live, if that is what you mean."

"What?"

"Well, he did take the fall as well. I mean…he would be dead without you…you saved his life…Master, you really should be resting."

Robin shook his head, wincing as he glanced around the room. "Where are we? And the others, where are they?"

"We are in Locksley…and I guess…we are all here as well," Much replied hesitantly, confusion still covering his face.

"Locksley?" Robin breathed, the breath clinching in his throat. Now he understood why it looked familiar. "We cannot be here; we must leave before Gisborne and his men return. What were you thinking?"

Though Much meant well, the man could sometimes make a rather poor decision. Such as now, and even with all the time in the world Robin doubted he would ever be able to figure out what had prompted the group to come here. It was more or less a planned suicide.

"Gisborne has already been here," Much told him, the man watching him closely. "He sends his wishes on a speedy recovery…"

"What?" he breathed quietly. The news was startling, causing Robin to massage his head once more. It was still pounding relentlessly, hindering his ability to concentrate, and he wasn't sure if Much was actually spewing nonsense, or if he simply could not process what the man was saying.

"You should be resting, the physician said you needed rest," Much said, taking him by the arm. Robin was quick to pull away from him, turning to face him.

"What is going on?"

The man only stared at him, concern etched deeply into his face as he shook his head. "I…"

"Much, is everything alright?"

His breath, his heart, and every fiber within his body froze at the sound. Even as he turned his mind screamed that he was wrong, that he was mistaken. It wasn't possible, the simple law of nature did not change, it did not break nor did it go off course. What had already been done could never be undone, and yet he saw her there, like an angel answering his prayers. Confusion turned to shock, shock wearing thin until nothing but excitement and disbelief were left. Then as quickly as they came they were replaced by doubt, by disbelief.

It could not be true; his mind had to be playing tricks on him. A hallucination at best, a cruel dream at worst. Whatever the case, he cursed it from the depths of his heart, and yet prayed silently that it was true, willing to give anything to make it so.

"Robin?"

He blinked slowly, realizing now that she had been talking to him, calling his name, and he had yet to answer. He was on the bed now, sitting next to her, his eyes watching her face closely. It all seemed real, his hand reached out tentatively, touching her skin, pulling back at the warmth he felt there. Did he really expect any different?

"Marian?"

Robin's voice was raw, her name sounding hoarse as he tried to speak, the ache in the bottom of his throat acting as though the single word had caused him great pain. Marian was watching him closely, the same puzzlement lining her face as he had seen on Much's earlier, perhaps the same bewilderment that lined his own.

"How?" he breathed, but was silenced as she pressed her fingers against his lips.

"No more, you need to rest. Lie down."

"It can't be…I…"

Yet Marian had a firm grasp on his shoulders, pushing him down on the soft bed. There was real strength behind the motion, yet a tenderness that could not be matched by another as she brought her hands alongside his face. They were cool to the touch of his skin, gentle and caring as she pressed a palm first to his cheek, then again to his forehead, smoothing the hair back.

"You are warm," she told him quietly, pulling away from him.

Robin reached out, catching her straying hand and trapping it between his own, watching her. There was a brief look of surprise, but then she smiled, allowing the slight gesture as she turned.

"Much, will you fetch some water for me, and a cloth?"

"Yes, my Lady," the man gave a slight bow before leaving the room, only adding the confusion that Robin already felt.

Much had not bowed to anyone in years, least of all Marian, considering he saw her as a member of the gang. Had seen her…Marian was dead…Robin shook his head, as though trying to banish the unwanted thoughts. Sense told him that she could not be, for she was here in front of his eyes. In the back of his mind, something screamed, warning him that this was not right. Marian…had…died.

He had held her in his arms, had spoken the vows that were more than just simple words. He had carried her to the grave, her cold form a sharp contrast to that of the burning sun. Robin was a warrior, he knew what death was, and he knew it was permanent. He had seen it many times, and he knew the dead did not come back to life.

During the war he would have dreams, strong and lucid, and it would make him feel as though he truly was back home. He would dream of her, of Marian, and Locksley…and at times, during the day, when the heat of the sun became too much, his mind would start to play tricks on him.

Robin had heard of the tales, of men seeing and hearing things that did not exist. Had heard of men divulging in conversations with open air. Though Robin himself believed to have seen certain things, he had kept it to himself, parting from the group and seeking relief from the heat, and succumbing to rest. He had never admitted his perceptions, and even now he felt like a fool for the situation he was in.

But even as the cool rag dabbed his skin, he reminded himself that he was a fool as well to disregard it altogether. Marian's eyes were the same as ever, cool and calm, mystic and yet spirited, everything he remembered and more. Pain blinded him in the next following moment, Robin closing his eyes as his breath caught in his throat. He let it pass before breathing again, opening his eyes a little more cautiously.

"The physician said the cut would hurt for a few days yet," she told him quietly, dropping the rag back into the bowl. "And he said that you should rest."

The cut? He hadn't remembered being injured, but if he had fallen…Robin reached up gingerly with a hand, brushing alongside his head where Marian had run the rag, flinching as he did.

"Don't touch it," Marian scolded, grabbing his wrist. "You'll get it dirty, and then it'll have to be cleaned again or you'll take a fever."

He had heard those words before, the voice floating through his head. It had been Marian who had sewn his arrow wound nearly two years ago. She had been none too gentle in caring for it, which Robin believed was what she had wanted, to make him understand her dissatisfaction at his decisions. But they were decisions he was satisfied with, for Robin knew he could not let his men hang in the gallows.

When the cup was pressed to his lips Robin didn't ask any questions, allowing Marian to help him drink the warm liquid. Questions were bounding through his mind, but he wasn't able to bring the words to his lips, wasn't able to phrase them the way he had wanted to. Yet even as he finished the drink he began to feel weary, and the funny thing was, Robin believed that was the point. He had been given a concoction, a kind of drug, and even as he tried to protest against what had already been done, the darkness began to encumber him.

* * *

><p>It was the darkness that had taken him, and it was the darkness that had greeted him when he first woke. The ache in his skull was still there, but it wasn't as severe and Robin was able to fight it off easily. What he couldn't quench was the deep nausea in the pit of his stomach, the worry that gripped him tightly without offering any type of relief. Something was not right, and try as he might he could not sort out what.<p>

Robin pushed himself to a sitting position, the heavy covers sliding down into a bundle about his waist. He wasn't alone, and he turned to see her resting near him, sound asleep. Her hair was loose, spread about her shoulders and onto the pillow, one hand curled near her face, the other gripping the top blanket gently. Her breaths were quiet, but definitely there.

Robin watched, entranced, his eyes tracing her form, as though trying to still understand how any of this could be. She was as beautiful as he remembered; a look of innocence, of absolute purity, a gift from God assuredly. He reached out a straying hand, moving to brush her hair from her face but he stopped himself, his hand hovering just above her. As much as he wanted to be near her, to hold her and accept this strange reality, he needed answers. Marian had avoided his questions earlier, and he alone would have to assume that they were ones she would be willing to answer most of all. So why hadn't she?

Just as cautiously, he moved his hand back. He could not risk waking her, not here, not now. He needed answers, and they would have to come first before anything else, despite what he wanted. And at the moment, there was only one person he trusted the most.

Slowly Robin moved out from under the covers, taking care to not disturb Marian as he left. He could still taste the bitterness from the drug she had given him earlier, and Robin was not too keen on having another. Stripped down to his undergarments, Robin found some clothes folded on a chair in the corner, the material much finer than that of what he normally wore. His fingers ran over the fabric, recognizing it as the same attire he had donned before leaving for the Holy Lands. It was a surprise, for Robin had assumed that Gisborne would have gotten rid of all his possessions upon moving in.

He dressed in silence, frustration hitting him once again as he could not find his weapons. Much knew that he always carried them near, ever since the war. Robin had made a point of being well armed, even when you least expected it, and now, though there was no real threat, Robin felt more naked than ever. He reassured himself, however, knowing that Much wouldn't have let them stray too far.

At the door he paused, turning back to look at her one last time. Marian hadn't even noticed his departure from the bed, and she slept on, unconcerned, unworried. He would have expected more from her, the woman had always been a fighter, such things should have not slipped by her. Then again, by every means she should be dead, so in his mind, neither of the two made any sense, and that in itself was logical.

It was the inconsistency that stood out the most, a single lie, or a single fault that blew an entire cover. So far, this trick, whatever it may be, for whatever reason, was being well played. The only choice he had was to play the game as well, but as every player knew, you could step outside of the boundary lines within reason.

With a silent nod to himself he pulled away, moving with grace and agility that only a warrior could know. Candles flickered down below, providing enough light to travel by without being hindered. Robin paused long enough to collect a dagger off the table, sliding it into his waistband. A bow and a pack of quivers rested in the far corner, dusty as though it hadn't been used for some time, but Robin would not be particular in a moment like this.

He wrapped a cloak about himself, pulling the hood up to conceal his face and donned the quiver, grasping the English bow in his hand as he surveyed his surroundings. The room was empty, prompting Robin to believe his men had returned to the forest, perhaps waiting for his return. Yet Much…Much would not leave him. And given the chance the man would rest in a normal bed as opposed to the floor. With a smile Robin headed off, knowing where his friend would be.

Once inside the room he treaded carefully, passing by the sleeping forms after surveying them closely. They were his servants, the people he had grown to love and consider as family. The same people he had to abandon to save his own life. Robin wondered dully if they ever forgave him for leaving them to Gisborne. It was a cruel fate, but there was little he could do about it now.

Shaking his head he moved up, reaching the last bed with a smile. Much slept soundly, wrapped tightly in the bundle of blankets. Part of the reason Robin loved him so was the fact the man was so readily predictable. Robin could count on him to do as he had always done, a trait that was exceedingly helpful on more than one occasion.

Reaching his side Robin laid a hand on the man's shoulder, shaking him gently. Having kept low, Robin also lowered his voice, not wanting to wake any of the other servants. He could not ask them to risk their lives, nor did he wish to place them in a position to do so. Beneath his touch Much stirred quietly, muttering something that was only half-comprehensible to his ears.

Again he called the man's name, and after a moment was met with a weary gaze, one that melted quickly into confusion as Much slowly woke. "Mast.."

Robin clamped a hand over the man's mouth quickly, hushing him. The confusion that was on Much's face died quickly, turning into slight alarm as though he wasn't sure if Robin meant to harm him or not. The expression worried Robin, causing him to glance around the room, the thought of possibly being watched entering his head suddenly. But there was nothing, and Robin shook off the eerie feeling as he turned back to the man.

"Come with me, and quietly."

He pulled away, turning to leave, but was stopped as Much began to question him. As quick as he could be Robin turned back around, motioning to silence him. The man did so, but was still clearly confused as he pulled on his clothes, and slipped his shoes on. Robin nodded towards him with encouragement, making his way back out, pausing only long enough to make certain the man was following him.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the long wait! I'm trying to work on getting this done. Many thanks to all of those still reading, and I love seeing your thoughts and comments!  
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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

The night air greeted him openly, inviting him in a trance-like state towards the forest that rose beyond the village of Locksley. Robin adjusted the cloak that rested about him, drawing his hood up for protection from prying eyes and the surrounding elements. He moved at a fair pace, his eyes watching intently as his ears listened. If there was to be any danger, surely it would present itself soon.

Much scampered after him, pulling on his own warm shirt and cover as he did so. Robin glanced back with mild compassion at his companion, feeling briefly sorry for he knew he hadn't given the man a lot of time to leave. Then again, it was a wonder, for Much should have been more prepared than this.

He had ended up scrambling about the dark, feeling his way for his things, nearly waking the others before Robin forced him out. Much had always been a bit on the awkward side, but war had diminished most of that throughout time. Now it seemed as though he had forgotten all of what he had learned within one night.

Reaching the edge of the forest Robin let out a contended sigh, already feeling safer among the tall trees. It was a comforting feeling, easing his mind albeit only a little. He paused here, long enough for Much to catch up, then took the lead again, weaving in and out among the trees, watching his trail carefully in case they should be followed.

"What happened, Much?"

These were the first words he had breathed since being outside, being too uneasy beforehand to try and speak. The thoughts had been clinging fiercely to his mind in the same way a pack of rabid dogs downed its prey, battering him relentlessly. He could answer some questions, but not all, and the difficulties that held to him the most were the very questions he could not counter. Inside his stomach was a silent war, fighting and screaming, his chest holding in a painful vice that was only growing worse as time wore on.

"I don't…where are we going?"

Robin glanced at the man with a vacant expression, trying to sort the details out in his head. He often counted on Much to keep him informed, and had expected him to do so in this event, but there was a solid look of confusion plastering his face, the tiniest hints of worry working their way through the mask he wore.

Robin had hoped, had begun to think that somehow, something, somewhere, had changed. In the desert, he believed, the heat…he could still feel the heat, could still feel the sweltering rays of the sun beat down. How the air had been hard to breathe, scorching his throat, how the desert had shifted and changed before his eyes without warning. Perhaps it was Carter's rescue he had envisioned, and so every event after it a painful figment of his very own imagination, his fears and dreams interwoven so tightly that they had merged together subconsciously, creating a falsehood so real that he had believed it to be true.

At the moment there was no other logical explanation in his mind. Marian lived, he had seen that with his own eyes, but what was more disturbing was the verity that he had also seen her death as well. They were two extremes, and could not both be true at the same time. Yet the possibility of it being a dream had never left his mind, and still it was not something he wished to believe, for reality held a truth he could not bear.

Night terrors of the war, the ghastly visions that plagued his mind seemed real enough, so fierce that he could see and hear, even taste and feel the delusion about him. Robin was no fool and knew that the possibility was this, but even his frequent dreams did not feel as real as this, nor did they ever last for so long. Throughout his dreams a voice in the back of his mind would often scream for him to rouse, reassuring him there was a different reality beyond this waking moment. But now it was silent, his mind filled instead with questions that seemed to have no rational answers.

Robin had taken a fever once, the days and nights amalgamating into one long existence he could remember nothing about. What he did remember was waking, feeling languorous and pained, perplexity gripping the deepest folds of his mind as he slowly woke to the world he had nearly left so long ago. This was how he felt now, but differences were still present. Waking from his fever in the Holy Lands it had been clear that he had changed, but at least the others about him had not.

Now it seemed as though he had been the only thing that had remained the same. This thought was his gravest concern, for he wasn't able to explain why. Marian had been short with him, Much had been wary, and even now the man followed in silence, a silence which the man normally filled to the brim with futile prattle even if it meant he could hear himself talk.

His hope would change however, he reasoned. The camp was a fair distance from Locksley, but could easily be reached before morning came. If his men had fled to the forest, as Robin rightly believed them to have done, then questions could be answered. He was not afraid to admit his fears, not in a case such as this. It was foolish of a man to hide behind a façade when wanted knowledge was just a question away. Especially questions that could not be answered before.

Robin had never forgotten the possibility that they were being watched. If Gisborne was planning something, he knew Much would not be permitted to speak of it within the walls back at Locksley least he risk all their lives. Yet what about Marian?

The one question he could still not answer. They were pieces of a puzzle, a puzzle he could not yet put together, simply due to the fact that there were still pieces that were missing. He wondered then if it had been wise to leave Marian behind, the thought pulling him to a sudden stop as he glanced behind him. Everything inside him longed to return, to see to her safety, to hold her in an embrace; yet his mind longed for the answers he did not have.

Much had stopped as well, his breaths heavy, the man shivering in the cold. Robin stared at him, humor mixing with confusion. "Did you not bring anything heavier?"

"I... uh…well…not particularly, no," the man breathed, stuttering over his words, speaking quickly as though he was trying to refrain from saying something he would regret.

Robin let out a sigh, already moving to unclasp his cloak. Though Much had not had the most leisurely time of getting ready, the man was well aware of the chill the woods could hold. But it was not something he would dwell on for long. The heat of his fever was keeping him plenty warm, as well as the anxiety still coursing through his body.

Much took the garment without question, holding it in his hands with a look of confusion. Robin said nothing more, simply turning and heading further into the forest. Behind him he could hear the other man scampering to keep up with the sudden change in pace. But Robin did not slow to accommodate him. Instead he pushed his way forward even faster. He knew these trees, knew this ridge…knew their camp wasn't much further. And with every step his heart beat faster, almost as anxious as he was himself.

But soon his steps faltered, his eyes catching the sight he saw for the real first time, but never really comprehending what he was seeing. His breaths came in heavy gasps, his heart pounding in his chest from the recent physical exertion. Robin grasped the trunk of the nearby tree, steadying himself, for what he saw could not be true.

Yet with all the things that he could fool he could not convince his eyes otherwise, for they saw yet another element that could not be true. The way in front of them laid bare, deep and empty, a sharp rising cliff instead of a gentle slope. That had been the reason for their choosing of this place, the terrain perfect for a hidden location…a hidden camp. A camp…that was no longer there.

"It can't be."

The question was rhetorical, barely being audible as it came out in the form of a whisper. Yet there was an answer.

"What can't be?"

Much had finally neared the top, sweat beading on his brow, the cloak still clutched in his hands instead of about his shoulders as Robin had intended. The man was breathing hard, holding a side as he glanced up, brows furled in worry.

"You can't see for yourself?"

The question was pained. Each passing moment was becoming a nightmare, the path before him darkening so that even treading on it would be a danger. He felt himself sway, then stumble, nearly falling and would have done so if it wasn't for Much's steadying arm on his.

"This has been too much…too much for you," the man told him, helping him to sit on the ground. "We shouldn't have come; the forest is dangerous at night."

Robin found himself almost laughing. Almost, but the cold chill imbedded deep inside of him would not allow him even the simplest of mirths. They had spent years in the forest, it had been their home. The truth of the matter was that they themselves were the real danger; they were the reason the woods were feared in the hours of darkness.

"We'll rest for a moment, catch our breath, then head back home…if we can even find home. Lady Marian is going to kill me."

Marian…he found himself thinking of her again. How could he not? His heart had torn itself in shreds when she had died, the warmth fading from her skin. Then she had been standing there, had been tending to him, had been sleeping with him…they were married.

They had married, Robin knew this. Marian became his wife only moments before she had died. They had said their vows to one another while awaiting their execution beneath the burning sun. It was the King that had overseen the last of it, had given him the ring to wed his wife before she had passed through to heaven.

They had said their vows; he knew they had. Robin had felt the desperation and failure throbbing deep inside of him. Yet if they had lost their perception under the sun, forgetting time and all that had happened, perhaps they had traveled back to England, perhaps they had been saved without any real knowledge. Robin could find no other way to explain it. Even if that explained one part, it still did not answer another.

"Where are the others?"

He glanced at Much, pleading for an answer, but the man just stood there, watching him.

"Others? What others?"

"The others, Much," Robin repeated, growing agitated now, "Little John, Allan-a-Dale?!"

"I don't know…"

He was on his feet before he knew what was happening. Much was not expecting the sudden move, his words falling short as Robin pinned him against a tree. The clock was dropped as the man gripped his forearms, a fearful expression crossing his face. "This is not a time for games, Much. I need to know what is happening."

"Then tell me what you want to hear," Much begged, his voice wavering. "I'll tell you…I swear I'll tell you."

"Where is everyone, where is the camp?"

"What camp?!"

"Why were we in Locksley, and what is Gisborne up to? And Marian…what is Marian doing here? She died in my arms, Much, as my wife, back in the Holy Lands. You were with me."

"What? The Holy Lands?"

"Yes, the Holy Lands. Yet now she is here and unharmed. So you need to tell me what is going on. I must know, if only for peace in my mind, but you must tell me. Tell me what happened back in Imuiz!"

"But Master…we have never been in the Holy Lands."

There was emotion in his voice; a mixture of fear and worry and it shone easily in his eyes as Robin held him there. But he had spoken earnestly, with not even a wisp of falsity in his demeanor. Why should there have been? For what reasons did Much have to spout off anything other than the truth? But Robin knew the words he spoke were anything but true.

"We have been," Robin mustered up the strength to speak, clearing his voice. "We went there, all of us, to save the king."

"King Richard?"

He let out a groan, trying to swallow his impatience. "Of course King Richard. Our king, the king we've been trying to bring home."

"But he is dead."

"What?"

Robin found his voice failing, his head spinning at the very words. It couldn't be true; they had left the King well and alive, safe from the assassination attempt. But if they had succumbed to the heat, like he had thought before, then there would have been no way to stop what would have happened.

"Karim killed him. Didn't he?"

He felt sick inside, a veil of emptiness suffocating him. They had failed…he had failed to do the very thing he had sworn upon entering the crusades. He had failed to protect his king.

"Who…?" Much was shaking his head, fingers still gripping his forearm. "No one knows who…there was a Saracen attack on the camp. People say he was cut down in his sleep…that…that was years ago."

"The Saracen attack?"

He wasn't sure if he had fallen, or if Much had forced him down. Yet he was on the ground, his stomach twisting into even tighter knots. Much had a hand on his shoulder, was leaning over him. "Here, you need to rest. The physician said you shouldn't be worrying yourself so hard. That fall was a little much for you. Take a moment, and we'll head back. The physician will come see you again…all will be well."

"No," Robin shook his head, glaring up at him. "No, Much, it will not be. The Saracen attack that night, it wasn't Saracens. I was there, I know. _I _stopped him, _I_ prevented it."

"You were there?" Much was frowning. "But that was during the war…you never went there, Master."

"Yes, Much, I did. You came with me, you were there, too. Remember? I was wounded…you went off to get help."

He was moving to argue again, mouth open and head shaking warily. In a huff Robin pulled away from him, undoing the buttons on his jerkin. He pulled away the last bit of cloth, prepared to show him the scar from the injury, prepared to show him the proof.

But his fingers came to rest on smooth skin. Fair and unblemished, without the faintest trace of an aged injury. It made no sense; he had been stabbed, he had been injured. Even now he could remember the pain that had soared through his body, could remember the agony of drawing his bow to try and finish the job. It was the reason he had missed, the reason Guy of Gisborne was still alive today. Without the wound, Guy would be dead, and the sheriff's plot unmasked long ago.

But his body no longer bore the evidence of such an injury. Nor was there any indication of even a scratch and this proved his words to be more a lie than the truth to anyone who would listen. Now Robin could not even convince himself, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to come to reason, tried for any reason as to why this was happening.

Fingers wrapped around his arm, bringing him back to semi-awareness. Much was pulling him to his feet, keeping him close to steady him. Robin staggered, regaining his balance, but his mind was nowhere near reality. Instead it was locked away in a whirlwind of questions that screamed for answers.

"Come on, let's get you home."

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><p>Walking had been difficult. A steady swagger, an uneven walk that was due more to the shock of an ill-twisted reality rather than the pounding hidden deep inside his head. He was hardly conscious of Much's steady hold on him, or the passing of trees. Neither was he aware of the rising sun.<p>

Warm rays filtered through the trees as they neared Locksley, bringing the man out of a suspended stupor. He was lost now in-between two worlds, one that he knew but wasn't sure existed, and another that was completely foreign to him. For every step he took he found himself locked in memories. Memories he knew to be true, true as touch, taste, and sight. Any sane man would agree as well.

Yet any sane man would know that both realities could not be true, and therefore prove one of them mad. Did he believe in the world he knew, or the world that now existed? To live in the moment, or try and struggle back to the world that once was? Or was it foolhardy to believe in something that wasn't real?

Subconsciously his hand drifted, coming to rest against the bare skin underneath his jerkin. Long had he become accustomed to the gnarled deformity, the blood price he had paid for his deeds during war. At times it was almost a blessing, a way to remember not only the horrors he had seen and done, but the knowledge he had learnt in that a sword did not always solve one's problems.

Yet now it was smooth, the slightest curve of muscles flexing and protesting to the unwanted movements he was forcing on his body. Or was it due to the illness he felt deep inside of him? That was not an easy question to answer. Yet the first answer he needed to know was that of what had happened.

Much, his loyal former servant and dear friend had pointedly told him that they had never gone off to war. There had been truth in his eyes, intermixed with deep and real concern. A smidgen of fear as well. They had never gone off to war…

Robin could remember that day, the one where he had decided, the reasons for his decision. It had been easy at the time, but with reflection now he realized it had been foolhardy. While he had not been particularly young, war had aged him in wisdom far beyond his years. If only he had been that wise all those years ago.

For a time he had thought it over; King Richard had requested more men, and there were many who encouraged him to go. His skills with a bow were well known among the shires, and many more knew of his uncanny ability to lead and take charge. All of that due to the untimely death of his father, the act leaving Locksley in either his hands or that of strangers. Robin had been but a child when that had happened, on the verge of becoming a man.

It was in his blood, or so people had told him. Though any knowledge of particular matters involving the state, church and taxes was beyond his ability during that time, it had been the Sheriff that had taught him this trade. Sir Edward…Marian's father.

That was how he had first met her. As a boy, especially a young boy, he had held very little interest in the small child that plodded about the castle after her mother. His mind had been on other matters, while not involved with businesslike material. But as years passed, the young child grew from a babe into a young woman. By then her mother had passed, something Robin could relate to rather well, and she had grown exceedingly close to her father.

Sir Edward was a fair man, but matters changed whenever it involved his daughter. Marian was headstrong, independent, and had no interest in taking on a man simply because it was the norm. Robin could remember the number of men who spoke to her with charm and adorned her with the most peculiar gifts. He could also remember her sweet yet insulting tone as she turned each and every one of them down.

It was one of the reasons Robin had found her so charming. A number of young girls that were on the verge of becoming women often would drop by his manor and wish him well with warm thoughts. Robin took each and every one of them in stride, thanking them and wishing them well in return. All during which he would ignore Thorton's ever pressuring advice to wed one of them. The truth was, Robin had about as much desire to wed as Marian did.

Taking over Locksley at such a young age had been difficult, although the right thing to do. It had, in truth, cut out much of his childhood, keeping him from doing many of the things that all little boys dreamt about. So while the other children played, and assisted their fathers in endeavors of craftsmanship, Robin found himself buried deep inside one lesson after another to ensure a future for the occupants of his village. Perhaps it was the figurative captivity that forced him to shy away from taking a wife.

Or maybe it was because he held no desire for any certain woman, save for one. He would see her often enough, during his studies in the castle, or at the Council of Nobles. A small smile in his direction, the coyness of her voice when they spoke in passing. Each day Robin found himself drawn to her charm, as well as her beauty. And it was she who he saw when the other women called upon him.

This was a sign he knew all too well, despite having ever been through it before. And Robin held no qualms about asking her to be his wife. He was surprised, rather pleasantly, to hear her agree. Their betrothal had been short…not because they had married, but because of the war.

She had asked him not go…yet he had gone. Even though it meant forsaking his promise and losing the only woman he had ever felt anything for. Why had he gone? Even now Robin could not answer that question, knowing in his mind all that it had cost him.

Or at least, what he thought it had cost him. The memories were so real, so vivid. He could remember them as though they had just happened. Yet here, and now, he was beginning to learn they had never taken place. How could that be?

Marian's voice now brought him no joy, only more anxiety as it further proved what could not be true. Her reaction to his grimace was most likely a confirmation of her suspicions. Dressed in the common garb of a Noblewoman she held a frown that offset her features even more. The basket held in her hands was transferred to her waist, the other hand now free coming to rest on one hip.

"You were under strict orders to remain in bed, and yet I wake to find you not only up, but completely gone. No one here had the slightest indication of where you were, and even after searching the town nothing was found. And now here you are, staggering from the forest. You care to explain what exactly was so important that you had to go gallivanting off in the woods in the middle of the night?"

She was, as ever, stringent upon being irritated. Normally Robin found it humorous, amusing in the least. But not now. He was at a loss for words, drained not only physically, but emotionally as well. More than ever his body craved rest, but his mind would not relax enough to allow it, he knew.

"I do not think…I do not believe Master Robin is feeling well," Much stammered beside him, shifting under the woman's glare. Most men would…Robin had learned enough of her to know that looks were not able to kill. Though at times they could greatly wound.

"Of course he's not," she chided, "first a fall, then an escapade in the forest in the midst of the night. Is that now the common cure for an illness? Get him back to bed; I'll send for the physician; hopefully any damage done will not be irreparable."

He felt the hand on him, the movement to lead him away, but Robin did not budge. He could see, in the far distance, the vaguest shapes of horses, approaching the village. They were using the main road, the riders in a single line, moving at fair pace, but not entirely in a hurry. Robin's interest was peaked, even more so when he could clearly see the lead man. It was Gisborne.

Now he wanted to stay more than ever, ignoring the quiet pleads, and the ever more insistent voice that demanded he return to his bed. He shook the pair of them off, taking a few strides towards the approaching steeds. He was going to get answers; and if they would not come from his friends, then they would come from his enemies.

Gisborne reigned the horse in, the creature coming to a halt with an irate snort, pawing at the ground with a bit of fiery temper. It took a moment for the man to fully calm him, but when he did the rider nodded at him, spouting off a formal greeting.

"It is good to see you up, Sir Robin. You had us all worried the day before. The sheriff would like to speak with you about your actions, and your quick thinking. When it is at your convenience, of course. My true nature here today, was of course, to see if you were well enough to travel to Nottingham. The Council of Nobles always values your opinions, after all."

"Sir Robin will be staying here," Marian started shortly after hearing the invitation, but Robin was quick to cut her off.

"I will come," Robin nodded towards him. Though he still felt ill, and the chances of this being a trap were more than real, he also knew it was a grand time to figure out what was happening. The more people he talked to, the clearer things would become. Or so he hoped.

"Much and I shall attend once I've had a chance to rest. We will make it on time, I assure you."

The laugh that came from the other man was startling, enticing him to frown. Gisborne was the opposite however, a smile gracing his face. "You mean to bring along a servant?"

"Yes," Robin answered flatly, his expression unchanged. "Is there an issue with that?"

The laugher died, not only from Gisborne, but from the men following him. They too had had a small chuckle at the thought, but when their master stopped laughing, they did as well. "Servants…are not permitted to the Council of Nobles…it is for nobles only."

"I'm quite sure the sheriff will make an exception," Robin returned, "considering the circumstances. I may not be as well as I think I am; what then, would you suggest, Sir Guy?"

He was quiet, the man's face a mixture of thoughtfulness and irritation, but finally he spoke once more. "I will speak with the sheriff."

"Much will attend with me, or neither of us will appear. I'm certain there are more…pressing matters we could find to do whilst in Nottingham."

"Very well," Gisborne nodded, "I will tell the sheriff that the suggestion was mine. He values your opinion highly…he would not be pleased to hear of such…strange requests, from the likes of you."

The statement left Robin in a bit of shock as Gisborne turned to leave. For certain, it had always been a strange custom to bring a servant along to matters that were of no concern to them, but then Robin saw Much more as a friend than a servant. Even more confusing was the fact of how Gisborne spoke with him. It was as though the man held him in the same respects, rather than some lowly criminal.

He had been formal, courteous, and almost apologetic when he had misstepped. That alone was not a ploy…could not be a ploy. Gisborne hated him too fiercely to put away his indifference in order to perform and masquerade. It did not matter what the end result would be. Still…what Gisborne had said, about how the sheriff valued his opinion. It was unnerving, the least to say.

And when Robin turned back round he was met with a confusion of faces. One from Much, the other from his wife…Marian. Robin found himself swallowing tightly, wanting to know the truth even more so now. One could not be living and dead…nor stuck in two realities.

"We will leave at midday," he nodded towards Much. "I will rest till then."

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to Kegel for the beta!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

He ignored the protests of Much, the sharp looks from Marian, and the harsh words of Thornton, the man Robin had once trusted for guidance when he was still a young lad. No one was overjoyed about his decision to travel that day, but being the Lord of the Manor did have its privileges. It gave him the final word.

Not that it made matters any better. Shortly after his return home, Robin found himself nursing his aching head and rising fever. His logical mind told him he should not be up and roaming around; but it also told him that what was happening should not be. He ate the stew brought to him by a servant, a young girl he couldn't remember the name of, and requested that she wake him in an hour's time. He chose her, instead of Marian or Much simply because he trusted her to listen. The others might let him slumber longer with the excuse of that he needed his rest.

Robin knew that he did; but there were other matters that needed his attention. The food helped to quell the feeling in his stomach, but it did not ease the pain inside. He did not know of a cure that would. Sleep didn't seem to help; in fact it only made things worse.

When the call came in to wake, he could barely move, let alone think. His limbs were heavy, and his head was swimming in a fog-like cloud. Resting on the edge of the bed he allowed himself a few breaths, calming his racing heart, trying to encourage himself that all was well.

"Robin, my love, lie back down."

He shook his head mutely, even as Marian sat down near him. If he lay back down now, then he knew he wouldn't be able to get up. What he needed was some fresh air, and a few moments of time to compose himself. He felt the hands on his bare skin, and he turned towards her, his forehead coming to a rest in the crook of her neck. It all felt so real, her cool flesh against his, her hands resting on his back, holding him tight. This did not feel like a dream; but how else could it be real?

"I must go," he whispered, knowing that it was the truth in itself.

"What you must do," she countered him softly, "is rest; you are burning with fever."

He knew this much to be true; he had felt this illness once before, back during the war. A fight, it turned out, that only he could remember. That was why he needed to go; he could not rest with ease until he had learnt the truth. How could he imagine this, or anything, with such vividity?

"The Council of Nobles," he began as he pulled away. He knew that he needed to get up now before he was persuaded differently. But it was already too late.

"They can manage without you for but one gathering," Marian insisted, pressing him back down on the bed. "I will send Thornton with a message; they will understand."

"It's important that I go."

And it was. Another meeting would not take place for a week's time; he couldn't wait that long to garner some answers.

"I know," Marian agreed quietly, a surprise to him. Did she too know that something was amiss? He wanted to ask her, wanted to hear her tell him what her fears were. Yet how could he look her in the eye and say that she had died? One could not be living and dead. He did not believe in ghosts or spirits, or other such superstitions. He never had.

"Trust me, my love, they will not make the decision today about the taxes. Even more so that you are not present. They will wait till the next meet."

"The taxes?" he whispered, his eyes closing as the wet cloth pressed against his face. Marian was gentle with her administrations, her voice just as soft.

"You've been opposing them; as have some others. I know you worry they will vote on it in your absence. They will not, I give you my word. Now rest."

Of course he opposed taxes; he always had, but he no longer held value on the council, or did he? This new reality was harshly countering that of what he knew, and trying to sort it all out was proving rather difficult. Even more so with the heavy weight of sleep upon him. He gave in, unsure if it was a wise decision or not. Only time would tell, he was certain.

* * *

><p>He slept. For how long he wasn't certain. It was the smallest shifting of the bed underneath that woke him. He lay still in the dark, listening more than watching. He closed his eyes quickly as the figure moved in front of him, feigning sleep. The hand against his forehead was light, stroking his hair with gentle concern before drawing back completely. Robin could feel it as well; his fever had broken sometime during his earlier rest.<p>

Even so, he dared not betray that he was awake. There was something in her movements, the way she kept silent as well that told him she did not want to wake him. If it was out of concern for his rest, or something entirely different, he was not certain, but part of him believed it was the latter. He listened as her soft steps traced across the room, the door opening for the briefest of moments, then closing just as slow. It was only then that he opened his eyes.

The day itself was done, and they were sometime into the night, the room dark around him, with not even a spare candle burning. Quietly Robin eased himself out of bed, shrouded this time by only a wave of dizziness, rather than a charade of aches and pain as he had held before. Once his mind was clear, he moved with the same gracefulness as Marian had, pressing an ear to the door.

Marian he could hear, speaking….talking to someone. To Much, he realized, recognizing the man's voice anywhere. It was muffled, hardly understandable. Slowly he reached up, opening the door. It led to the staircase, which in turn led down into the main room of Locksley Manor. It was no castle, but it still held its own formidability in both size and stature. This was where he had grown up, and he knew the house well. Well enough that he knew where to avoid the loose board, so that he would not betray his position.

Staying low he crept along the railing, peering down into the opening as he listened. They were below him, only their shadows could be seen, wavering in the flicker of candlelight.

"You shouldn't go, my lady. It's too dangerous."

"I cannot afford to wait," Marain's voice was grim in reply. He could see her shadow moving, arms crossing over her head as Much's shadow collided with her own. She was getting dressed….the outline of a cape briefly visible before melding with her original shadow.

"Gisborne…the sheriff…" Much stuttered, pausing for a moment as he took a breath. "Since Master Robin's been hurt they've been coming around more often. What if they see you? What if they find out?"

"They won't find out unless someone tells them."

"But Robin…"

"I'll be fine," Marian reassured the man. "Sara and Jess are not the only ones suffering. They have been waiting for two days; I will not force them to wait any longer."

"What shall I tell Master Robin if he wakes?"

"That I've had a friend call upon me."

"Right…" Much's silhouette nodded enthusiastically, before stilling. "Who?"

"You do not recall," came her answer. "That way our word cannot be disputed. I will return before daybreak, watch for me. If it is not safe, you know what to do."

"Yes, my lady."

With that the two shadows disappeared, the flame flickering for a short time before that too was put out. Robin took his cue, and crept quietly back into his room, closing the door behind him. Without hesitation he made his way to the window, his eyes searching outside. There was a smile that crossed his face as he saw the cloaked figure scurry across the grass, slipping inside of the barn.

At least not everything had changed. But why take measure to hide the Nightwatchman business from him? He hadn't always known, in the….other reality. Be it dream, or truth, or whatever possibility. So now, here, he could presume that this Robin was not supposed to know. Or had he always known, only leading a pretense that he did not know for Marian's sake?

He closed his eyes, sitting down on the edge of the bed. This was far too complex to try and think through, he reasoned. It was all the more reminding him on how important it was to find the others, wherever they might be. He would have to ask around, to spread the names of Little John and Allan-a-Dale. Someone was bound to have heard of them, or what might have happened to them.

Caution would need to be taken too. Anyone he spoke to could be risking their lives by simply listening. But Robin was not sure on how much longer he could allow this madness to last.

* * *

><p>He was better by morning. At least physically. Robin could feel the strength returning to his body, and for the first time he truly had been hungry. But his mind was busy as ever. That, he knew, would take more than rest and food to heal.<p>

Marian had returned by the time he woke, now asleep near him as she had been before. Robin had stayed where he was for a time, eyes closed as he breathed in her scent, trying with all his might to pretend it was real. Maybe it was…maybe it always had been. A foolish notion; how could any one man dream up a life he had never lived? Still he pulled back her hair, the most tender of kisses on her forehead before he pulled away. The sun was already out, and he was anxious to get the day started.

Much was awake, surprise on his face as Robin came down the stairs. He was cooking, and muttered something that was nearly incomprehensible as he hurried through the kitchens and into the room. Robin sat as the chair was drawn out for him, the man scampering back into the other room as soon as Robin had taken his seat. It was odd, the way Much fussed over him. Of course Much always had done so, but never like this, never with so much…fervor.

"It is not quite done yet, I did not expect you this early," he apologized meekly, returning with a basket of fruit. It was placed quickly on the table, within his reach and Much beckoned to it. "It is fresh…the apples are your favorite."

They were his favorite, and it had been a long time since he had had any. He was able to snatch a few from the market from the times when he and his men made drops…or used to make drops, that was. Robin was still watching Much with a frown, but he reached forward to grasp the fruit, holding it in his hands as he studied it. This, was strange.

He was in his own house, with his own servants, with a woman who by all means should be dead. Gisborne was civil towards him, the sheriff apparently held his opinion in high favor, and Marian was hiding the fact that she was the Nightwatchman from him. And Much was waiting on him hand and foot. There were more things that made him uneasy; the camp, or the lack of one, as was his wound. Robin was certain he would soon learn of more things that could not be. The apple had a sharp, bitter taste, but so very pleasant at the same time as he chewed slowly. Dreams did not taste this real.

"We are going to town today," Robin informed Much quietly, swallowing the mouthful before taking another.

"We? As in, you and me…or we, as in you and Marian?"

Marian…he could have her come, just so she would be near. But already he could imagine her hounding him, unsettled by his decision to travel. There was still a bit of anger he held; he had missed the Council of Nobles because of her. Had missed his chance of possibly finding out what sort of game this could be. Yet could this really be a game of the sheriff? The man could dictate what happened within the shire well enough, but he was not God. He did not have control over life and death, nor did he command Robin's memories. He shook his head then, finishing off the apple as he answered.

"Just you and I. There are people I must speak with."

There were a few he trusted to speak with. As an outlaw he had held allies, people he had trusted with his life. A few were nobles, but most were nothing more than simple peasants. The ones who worked in the castle, who could come and go freely without pressure. These were men who knew the town, the state, the church. They were learners, players, much like Robin was, but they stayed well within the laws. Aside from informing an outlaw, that was.

"The sheriff, he uh…requested your presence. Sir Guy came yesterday, while you were sleeping. If you are well enough…"

"I will see him," Robin cut him off, realizing what the other man was trying to say. It made him wonder all the more if the sheriff had some say in this. He had to; for what other reason would the man long to see him so anxiously? At least today he stood a better chance than the day before if there was to be some sort of trap. Bless Marian for making him wait.

The food was placed before him and Robin ate without question. Had it been another he would have been wary, but Much would bring him no harm. The man took his own food in the other room, a strange doing but Robin was too distracted to really notice. Before long his hunger ebbed, his mind calmed, but not entirely. When he had answers he would feel better.

"Ready the horses?" he nodded to the man once finished. He wanted to leave soon, but not without seeing her again. It was like a spell, a curse that kept drawing him near her. He had to see her, to make sure she was still alive. There was an uneasy feeling inside of him, as though he expected her to fade away at any moment. So it was reassuring to find her still asleep. She stirred at the gentle contact, returning the kiss the next time it came. It was heavenly. Bleary eyes watched him, blinking in the morning light.

"You're awake?"

"I actually slept," Robin teased her quietly. "Unlike some of us who ran off gallivanting during the night."

There was something that flashed through her eyes, but it was masked the next moment. Robin caught it easily but he said nothing. Marian sat up, pretending to be unconcerned as she answered. "A friend called upon me; she was in distress."

"Who was it?"

"Much did not tell you?"

So it was a test. She had told the man no name, but Marian was as clever as she always had been. She would not give a name until she was certain. Robin smiled at that thought, but he shook his head. "It does not matter. You'll have plenty of time to get your rest. I will be away for the day."

"Away? Where?" If she had not been awake before, she was now. "Robin, you shouldn't just yet. Though your fever is gone, you are still healing."

"Much will be with me," he reassured her. It was cute, although irritating, the way she was concerned about him. "The sheriff wishes to see me."

"He can see you when you are better."

"I am better now," he lied calmly. He could see the defiance in her eyes, and the reality of it all hurt. It felt so real, and Robin was afraid to question the truth of it. He could have her, he could keep her, as his wife. In a time that was good, a time that was fair…as fair as it possibly could be. There had been no war, he had not lived in the forest, and she had not died in another land. But someone else had.

The king was dead. The King Richard, The Lionheart. A man that had been much like a father, who had loved him like a son, a man who he had saved somehow, somewhere, in another time. The news was hard to swallow, but to have to choose between a life of a love, and a life of a friend and king…that was something he could not do. He had seen Marian die, but here she was and now he had to accept the reality that the king was dead instead. If he denied that truth, then he denied the fact of her existence here and now. The hand on his face brought him from his thoughts, and he gave her a smile to show that he was well.

"I worry about you, Robin."

"I will be well," he gave her hand a squeeze before he pulled away. Perhaps not as well as he could be. His head was still funny, still a little sore. But he had been through worse pain before. It would heal. Once he had his answers, it would heal.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**Many Thanks to those reading and leaving comments. I enjoy them very much!  
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**Thanks to Kegel for the Beta  
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* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

When he had first returned from war it had felt strange. To be so calm; to ride out in the open with no cover and no armor. War had taught him many things, but ease of heart had not been one of them. But that was in a different time. Robin found himself correcting his thoughts; it hadn't been _when _but rather _if_. It was a strange, confusing reality, but he was starting to slowly understand. Still, it did not make him fear it any less.

They carried through the forest, both he and Much, headed north towards Nottingham. The man was nervous on top of his steed, shifting constantly, but Robin rode without hesitation. He took care to avoid certain places, areas where he and his men had set traps. They were no longer there, hadn't been there in this reality, but it was so ingrained in his mind he didn't even think of it. If Much had noticed his strange pattern of riding, the man made no comment. In fact, the man hardly said a word.

This was not the Much he knew. It had been irritating at times, the way the man carried on, talking both sense and nonsense at times. Now he was nothing of the sorts, only an occasional word slipping past his lips in answer to a question, and even most of those questions had been failed to be answered. Yet in the times Robin met his gaze, there was sincerity there. Out of all people, Much would be the last one willing to go along with such a ploy, confirming yet another maddening thought. That this was the true reality.

Robin had pushed aside those thoughts as they rode into the castle town. It seemed as though some things could not change. The number of people that collected around the base of the stronghold was as large, perhaps larger than Robin could remember. Men, woman, and children were dressed in rags, covered in dirt and muck as they huddled near whimpering fires that could barely even be seen. They watched him with wary eyes, some with hands barely outstretched as if hoping for a coin, and at the same time fearing a lashing instead. Robin reached into his jerkin, closing around the small satchel of coins that was there. Something he had gathered before leaving Locksley, but even he did not think there would be this many. Still he pulled a few coins free, flipping them towards the children who were eager to scamper after them. It hurt that he could not do more, at least for now. When he had things sorted he would come back, and see to it that these people were properly fed.

The clopping of the hooves from their horses sounded in the morning air once they were inside the town. There were a few people milling about, some worn-down stalls open that were spotted with sparse goods. They must have been traveling men, having made their stay here for a week or two. That was a common enough occurrence, and they usually were the only ones able to stay open even when the market was not present. But if they were selling any goods, Robin could not say. It seemed as if most of Nottingham was still asleep.

"Market's good today."

The mutter that came behind him was unmistakable, but still Robin could not help but question him. This could not be the market…it was worse than when Robin had first returned from the war. Had he returned from war…he shook his head, taking another look about the town. It was no wonder why so many were without homes if this was the market. And Robin was fearful to know how it was before, in order for it to be good now. He spurred his horse on, taking in the sights, the sounds, hoping for a sign he would recognize. The one he found was gut-wrenching, a chill settling in his bones. The Sheriff of Nottingham had not changed.

The bodies swung in the breeze, each one hooded, hands bound at the back so they had not even a chance to fight to live. Clothes hung on them in tattered shards, and birds had already begun to pick at their flesh, suggesting this latest hanging had not been all that recent. Robin forced himself to turn away, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth and trying to keep what little he had eaten down. Much was just as quiet as he, but when Robin chanced a glance back, the other man was not even looking that way, hardly taking notice of the death and decay that was just overhead. As if it was…

No. Robin shook his head, chasing the thoughts away. It could not be something that was accustomed. Men did hang, he knew. For crimes that were unspeakable, for murder, or for treason. The latter could bring worse punishment, but Robin also knew the sheriff sentenced grave punishments for the pettiest of crimes. He doubted the men that were hanging above had done such things. A part of him knew he would never truly know.

A stable boy greeted him, taking the reigns of his horse as he dismounted. Being here, at Nottingham Castle in the open, was a strange feeling indeed. Every sense was heightened, his eyes surveying the courtyard, searching the archways for any sign of a trap. A guard met them at the front of the stairs, Robin's hand subconsciously moving to the weapon at his side.

"Sir Robin. The sheriff was expecting you. Shall I tell him you've arrived?"

Robin gave the man a nod as Much dismounted behind him. The man stumbled as his foot caught in a stirrup, agitating the horse before being able to free himself. Robin watched as he took the reigns, and started to follow the stable boy.

"Much?" Robin beckoned to the man when his gaze was met. "Well? Come on."

"I," the man faltered, seemingly confused. But at another nod from Robin he handed the reigns to the stable boy, and followed. They climbed the steps, passing through the corridors they had traveled so often in the midst of the night. Before long they were at the Great Hall, entering after being announced.

"Locksley, my dear boy," the sheriff glanced up from where he sat. There was a frown on the man's face in the next moment, a bit of a huff escaping his lips into the air. "I see you've brought your little puppy along today."

"Much is my friend," Robin warned him testily as he came into the room. He did not like being here. The Great Hall had only one way out, a narrow opening at the top of the stairs. If the time to leave became a sudden need, it would prove highly difficult. The sheriff, however, merely shrugged, chewing on a fingernail.

"Yes, well, if you insist-"

"I do."

The sheriff would never hear him through, not when he had been an outlaw. But now the man was quiet at the statement, studying him. Robin kept his senses alert, feeling all the more paranoid as time went on. This was wrong. He was here, in a room with two men who had tried to kill the king, who had killed his wife—now the opposite. A dead king, a wife that had no memory of all the events that taken place.

"You must forgive Sir Robin for his actions, milord," Gisborne spoke just then, breaking the silence. "It seems that he has not fully recovered from his incident. His manservant is here merely to ensure his welfare, which I am sure you can agree with."

"Of course; which reminds me. The little leper is in the dungeons awaiting her trial. Let's say another hour? A little more light to draw out the crowd, and you can read her sentencing."

"What sentencing? And to whom?"

His voice had fallen, taking on a deadly tone that was not missed by the others. The sheriff seemed amused, Gisborne dumbstruck. It was the latter who had spoken first. "Lady Marian took the liberty of informing me Sir Robin has some bouts of confusion. He does not seem to remember what has happened. There are even…reports…of his delusions."

"Such a shame," the sheriff let out a tut, shaking his head. "But with an injury as such it is not surprising. All the more reason punishment is needed."

"And what has she done to deserve punishment?"

"An attempt on your life, of course," the man answered quickly. "_Oh help me, someone, my baby, please!_" the sheriff mocked, taking on a high tone. He relaxed the next moment, speaking normally. "If we show her mercy, then every wretched woman will be dangling their children over rooftops, knowing that you'll come to their aid. And if you don't happen to fall, they will start to push you."

With a sudden realization, Robin knew what they were talking about. The child…the baby. The one he had saved from the ravine. But apparently now it was one he had saved from a rooftop. And now the mother was to be punished…because…he had been injured?

"Come now, Huntington, what do you say? There won't be much of a crowd if we proceed today, but it has been so long since a good hanging. A fresh body in the gallows will certainly draw attention; we can even forgo the hood, let people know that even women are not protected from the law."

"No," Robin ground the word out angrily.

"Of fine, we'll keep the hood. You and your morality; wanting to give respect to the departed. It is rather unnerving, I'll have you know."

"I was referring to the hanging altogether." He was not amused. It seemed as though the sheriff was dolling out punishments simply for entertainment. It did not matter if one was guilty or not, as long as someone was hanged.

"You forgo this, you risk yourself," the sheriff warned. The amusement in his voice was gone as well, a challenge hanging in the air. It was not the first time the man had challenged him, and Robin was not persuaded differently.

"Then I risk myself," he answered simply. "But I will not allow her to be harmed."

"So protective; what is she to you? The Lady Marian not providing enough satisfaction for you? Having to take on other little lepers to fulfill your desires?"

"I will not punish those who are innocent," he ground out, ignoring the private jab. He did not even know this woman, but neither would he send her off to her death for deeds that had never been done.

"Right," came the muttered reply. "We'll let her go then, if you insist."

"I do—"

"Also make it known that in your absence yesterday we came to an agreement with the new tax proposal. I do regret you were not here to have your say, but you will be pleased to know that it was established, an increasement of two-fold for every villager. Of course you, as well as the other nobles are exempt from these new taxes as long as your peasants pay their dues. A sort of a bonus, really."

"More taxes?" this he could not believe. Already the shires were starving, the beggars near the fort coming into mind. How many more would be there by months end? The market would dry up entirely, there would be nothing to sell, nothing to trade. And thievery would soar, as well as the hangings, Robin was sure.

"The idea was yours; a slight increasement of taxes over time, as you said, would be better accepted than a full ten-fold raise. You and Gisborne are to make the announcement that it will be due at the first of the month."

A raise of ten-fold? It was outrageous; already Robin could see that the people could not afford to give away that much; expecting them to double was hard enough. Yet here the sheriff was, going to demand so, and saddling the blame—no, the commendation on him, as if they were old friends. His brow furrowed, trying to figure out what had gone wrong, but more so when it had. This was something he would never approve of.

"I was informed a decision was not to be made," he said quietly after a moment, remembering Marian's words from the day before. Of course she did not hold sway over the council, but what was it she said? There were others that had been opposing the taxes? As was he, so she said. Yet the sheriff was stating the opposite. "I do believe my mind has changed on the whole tax matter."

"Obviously," Vaysey replied sourly. "It was drawn to my attention that you had been going back on your decision these past weeks. So I took the liberty of making it for you. You'll thank me in time. King John would be rather taken aback if he was to learn you did not fully support him. Just think what would happen to your estate, your manor…your wife."

King John? Of course; Robin hadn't thought that detail all the way through. Prince—King, John, had been plotting to take Richard's crown for a time now. If the king truly had been killed during the Saracen raid, then John would have been quick in securing that position. And as king…Robin apparently supported him; or maybe not as much as he could. The tone which the sheriff had used was unmistakable. So what had happened? Had he traded his loyalty for the safety of people? For the safety of Marian?

"Our king is beginning the age of a new era; the rebuilding of this land, our beautiful England. The money we raise for him brings his vision a step closer to reality."

"Rebuilding England? By bleeding her and her people dry? There won't be an England left to rebuild if this continues. We need to focus on giving the people here money, not shipping it halfway across the country to a king that will use it to build himself a fancy stronghold."

The sheriff raised an eyebrow at this comment, leaving Robin to wonder if he had struck a nerve. Hopefully he had. Trick or no trick, what was being proposed was execrable. How could they even suggest such a move when there were people starving on their doorsteps?

"Helping paupers and thieves? Whatever for? They are parasites, like fleas on a dog. If you let them live, then the dog will die. It is our responsibility to cleanse ourselves of them; and this land. Speaking of responsibilities, do tell me that you've made some progress."

His temper was flaring. Robin would not be able to hold this guise out for much longer. Things were already maddening enough, and with each passing moment it was becoming worse. He had landed in some hellish version of life he hadn't even thought possible. His one wish, his Marian, was still here, but for the price of what?

"Huntington, did that fall mess with your ears as well as your sense of reason?"

"What progress are you speaking of?" Robin asked bitterly. He was in no mood for any games; he had learned nothing in coming here, and it seemed that his slew of questions was only growing.

"The Nightwatchman," Gisborne was the one to answer, his voice overshadowing that of the sheriff's. Near him he could see Much stiffen, the man having been like a shadow until just a moment ago. Robin had a feeling why too, but he gave no indication, his face passive as he answered.

"What about him?"

"The thorn in our side. Some of our shares disappeared last night. I can only wonder who is responsible. Which tells me that you haven't yet found out who it is. I want him, Locksley. I want you to find out who he is, and I want you to bring me his head."

Marian…the Nightwatchman…Robin could feel his insides turn, and he tried his hardest to not betray any emotion. She had always lived a life of danger; yet in another time the simple command had been for guards to shoot on sight. Now there was someone after her…he, was after her.

"What? You can't…" Much's voice broke through the silence, the attention in the room drawn to him. Robin was thankful the man had spoken; it had given him the mere second he needed to compose himself, to pretend indifference. He would first give himself up to the gallows before he harmed Marian, but if the sheriff and Gisborne knew that she was the Nightwatchman, there may not be anything he could do to save her.

"You see, Locksley. This is why it is not a good idea for…commoners, to be in attendance. This simple talk is upsetting him."

Much…though the man had given him time to compose himself, Robin knew that he was now as much as a danger as he was a savior. It would only take a single word, a simple mistake, to give Marian away. They needed to leave, and now.

"Our day has been long," Robin was quick in drawing the attention back to him. "Much hasn't had time to rest properly; he's tended to me since my injury. We shall take our leave."

"Yes, of course," the sheriff waved them on as he stood. "Do not forget about our little... proposition. I want news by the end of the month. Otherwise I may have to send word to the king, and his moods haven't been exactly forgiving as of late, if you know what I mean. Do not let me down on this, Locksley."

Another threat. Deception ran deep, but it was hardly a surprise for Robin anymore. All he could think of was leaving there, worry bottled so tightly in his chest that something would go wrong. He wondered then if anything could possibly go anymore wrong than it already was.

* * *

><p>Much was not as calm as he had been when they had first rode to Nottingham. Though quiet, it was more the man's demeanor that caught Robin's attention. And why should he not be worried? Robin knew already that Much was fully aware of what Marian did, and now the man knew she was in mortal danger. Thought; not knew. Robin would never turn her in. But harm may come to her anyway.<p>

He feared the sheriff would act if he failed to produce the Nightwatchman. If not his wife, then another innocent would pay, and that Robin could not allow. How he agreed to this bargain Robin was not sure, but he could likely guess. It seemed as though the sheriff had as much sway over him now as he did upon his return from war. The trading of one life for another. He could be free, but only at the expense of others. Things hadn't improved much here. As long as he played the good little puppet, everyone he cared for would be safe.

Robin had made a point in leaving quickly. His only detour had been to the dungeons to see that the mother was released, and that her child was returned to her. She had been speechless, utterly confused, but it hadn't taken long for the tears of gratitude and her everlasting thanks to come forth. Robin had not trusted the sheriff to keep to his promise, and so had bid the woman to follow him from the town.

Gisborne had watched him with a deadly glare, thinking perhaps as the sheriff before, that she was lover to fill a void left by Marian. Though it would never be true, Robin didn't waste time to try and correct that assumption. Once free of the town gates, Robin had given her what was left in his purse with instruction to travel to Kirklees Abbey. He and Much had turned their way home shortly after that. Troubling thoughts occupied his mind on the way.

Robin knew he could stand out against the sheriff. He had done so before, whether it was for real or within a dream. He had the courage to do so again, but there was a difference that held sway over him now. He was alone. Before there had been his men, and though the rescue had been unexpected, it had proven to Robin that a few could do great deal. By himself, Robin knew he was weak, that he was frail. If he left to the forest now, he would not be doing anyone any favors.

Much might follow. Robin glanced back at the other man as they neared Locksley. He had changed; everyone had, Robin realized dully. The man still served him, but gone was the air of loyalty, the sense of friendship. It felt as if they were more strangers, Much accompanying him only when he asked. Before Robin would have to order him to stay away, and even then the man did not always listen. Now there was the briefest of hesitations when he was asked to follow.

Then there was Marian. Robin could not say if she would follow or not. He would not leave her behind, not to the mercy of the sheriff. And what would become of his people? Vaysey had not missed a chance to let a threat linger on their well-being either. As much as it angered him, Robin knew that the time for direct action was not now. He would have to wait, and bid his time, much like was once suggested to him long ago. Perhaps he should have listened; but Robin knew in his heart he had made the right decision. These thoughts faded when he spied the familiar face. Another who he had seen to die; but like Marian, he too, was very much alive.

"Dan?" Robin reigned his horse to a stop, dismounting as the man met his gaze.

"Master Robin?"

Some things were the same. Robin could see well the hand that was still missing. But the man was still alive, and that warmed Robin's heart in a time where it had been previously so cold. He reasoned the man was surprised when Robin drew him into a hug, but then he shortly returned the embrace however awkward it was.

After he had rescued both of the man's sons, Dan had gone off to Scarborough with Luke, the younger of the two. Will had first gone with them, but had doubled back to see Robin and the others to safety after their brief imprisonment in the forest by Little John, and the other outlaws that had resided there. Somehow, in all of the mess, Will had never left. In time, his father, Dan, had returned to bring him home, but stubbornness on both ends had led to other things. Namely his own demise. Robin had well seen how the sheriff's man had cut Dan down, the man dying in the dirty streets as a newly discovered poison coursed through the village.

"You seem to be in high spirits today, Master Robin," the man acknowledged him as he pulled free of the embrace. It was not missed by Robin on how worn the man looked, and how thin and precarious he had seemed in his hold only a moment ago. It seemed that everyone was suffering.

"I am feeling better," he allowed himself to admit that small truth.

"I did hear about the incident," Dan conversed with him quietly, a smile coming to him then. "I am glad you are recovering."

"You are doing well, I hope?" Perhaps not as well as the man could be doing, Robin reasoned. He would have Thornton gather everyone, would hold a feast and see to it that everyone had a proper meal. Whatever Locksley Manor had would be shared with others, for as long as Robin could afford. And even then, he already had plans to go without if it meant others had enough. He could take care of himself well enough; it was the others he worried about.

"Some days are hard," the man admitted. "But the days always come, work never stops, as I'm sure you know. I was with Jane and the boys yesterday. I don't get to see them as often as I should."

Robin could scarcely believe his ears. Jane, Dan's husband, and the children, were still here. Robin had not once thought of the man since waking to this strange world. Will, as he had last seen the man, had stayed behind with the woman he loved, in the land of her home. The decision was hard, but Robin knew the two deserved a chance at a real life. Now his mind was working

furiously, coming to the realization that Will had not gone to the Holy Lands simply because Robin had not. Which meant he was still here. If he could find the man, convince him to the cause, maybe he could figure what had gone wrong. But there was something in the way Dan had said his words that caused Robin to wonder.

"Where are they?"

It was not uncommon to send one's family away, especially in hard times like these. Dan had family in Scarborough, a distant cousin of a sibling or someone of that stature. Robin did not doubt that this was where they had gone, the reason Dan had missed them so.

Yet the man watched him quietly, a pained look in his eye as he answered hesitantly. "The same place they've been, Robin."

He followed the man's gaze behind him, and in doing so he could feel his heart sink, his body forgetting how to breathe. It couldn't be.

Dan was watching the hill that resided just over the village. The same hill, in which the dead of Locksley were laid to rest.

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks to Kegel for the beta**

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><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

They were simple graves. Wooden crosses, the fine craftsmanship suggesting that it had been Dan who had made them, had been pounded into the ground to mark where they lay. The three were near one another, Jane's in the middle, with each child off to one side. Robin stayed where he had first come, crouched with arms resting on his knees, and even though his legs were starting to burn, he could not force himself to move.

It couldn't be true. This could not be happening. With each breath, each new event, he found himself dreading this strange life all the more. Will…Luke…both dead; and so young, with so much potential. It was enraging, sickening, and Robin found himself fighting to keep from being sick.

"What happened?"

Dan had followed him. As had Much. He couldn't blame the either of them. Robin had taken off so fast for the hill he had frightened them both. Though they hadn't made a sound, he knew they were waiting on him. When nothing still was said he turned, meeting Dan's gaze with a serious one of his own. "I must know."

"Robin…you were there," Dan started, but Robin was in no mood for any games.

"Then I do not remember," he spout off angrily as he moved, standing in one solid motion. "Tell me."

The man was quiet at first, shaking his head as he finally answered. "You were the one that read their sentencing—"

"No."

Robin refused to believe that, but Dan seemed bewildered at his outburst. He swallowed, "I could not…"

"You didn't have a choice, Robin," the man told him quietly.

Robin bit his lip. There was always a choice. Everything was a choice. He could not allow himself to believe he had willingly let them die. The bitter pain was returning, as was a new, gut-wrenching turmoil he could not quell. What had become of him?

"What my boys did, they knew it was wrong. The fault was their own, not yours."

"If I read the sentencing then I agreed with it," he argued, his mind flitting back to the mother and child he had seen to safety. If he had argued against that, and won, then he could have done so with them. So the question was why he hadn't. He met Dan's gaze, bitterness in his own heart. How could the man even look at him, let alone be civil with him? His entire family was dead, and not only had he, Robin, not prevented it, but it seemed as though he had been the cause of it as well.

"The sheriff had you under duress," Dan told him quietly. "Everyone knew that; as they know he holds you now in much the same condition. You did what you could, but had you not agreed, then others would have paid, and it wouldn't have changed the fate for my boys. I would not have that happen, Robin, no matter how much I loved them. I do not blame you."

Yet he blamed himself. Robin moved hastily to wipe away the fallen tears, but they did not go unmissed. It was Dan this time that pulled him into an embrace, one that he returned without question. "I'm so sorry."

"Master?" Much's voice was timid, the man uncertain as to what to do. "Perhaps we should return home, have you get more rest. It has been a long day, and you are not yet well…"

No amount of rest would make him well again. Not if this was the fate he had to live with. How many others had he sentenced to die? How many had suffered due to his cowardice? How many more would suffer, with the coming of this new tax he was to propose within the coming weeks? He was once the bringer of hope, the one people said silent prayers to in the middle of night. Now they would soon be cursing his name, if they did not already.

"Come back with me," Dan was still watching him, showing to be in a far better state than he. "It would only cause Lady Marian worry if you were to go home like this."

Marian…he longed to see her. The very thought lifted the heaviness in his heart, though it did not banish it completely. Yes; she would worry. He had been out longer than planned, and no doubt Much would waste no time in relaying all that had happened in the day's events. The last thing Robin wanted was to cause anyone more pain, let alone her. He would take some time; compose himself before returning to what he knew would be a long night.

* * *

><p>Dan had been gracious enough to find him something to eat, but Robin waved away the offer. He would not take anything from the man when his own fully stocked store was but a few houses away. It was just the two of them, Much returning to the manor on Robin's request. He figured the man was anxious to speak with Marian, to warn her of what the sheriff had said. So he would grant them the time alone; for now, his mind was on other matters.<p>

"I know it is difficult," Robin began quietly as the other man returned to the room, "but I must know how this happened."

"It was just as difficult for you as it was for me," Dan answered as he sat across from him. The cup was offered, another invitation of good will. When Robin did not move to take it, the man simply sat it down in front of him. Robin doubted his stomach could handle anything much right now. He was more interested in answers. If the man was still worried by Robin's questions, it did not show.

"They were caught stealing flour. Giddens was, not my boys. But I suppose it was my boys that had the idea. Will, at least. He was always stubborn, always so upset since Jane passed away. I know it was wrong of them, I'm not trying to say they were right."

"If people were starving, what other choice did they have?"

"They wouldn't steal from you, Robin," Dan nodded towards him as he held his own cup to his lips. "You already gave out what you could, but you can't always feed an entire village. When I woke that morning to find the both of them gone, I figured they were up to something. And when Gisborne came to Locksley later that day saying the thieves had been tracked back here, I knew it had been them. There was nothing you could do for Giddens, but you sent Gisborne away, kept him from poking around any further. You gave me another day with my boys."

"And Giddens confessed?"

Dan nodded, quiet just then. Robin didn't prompt him, only waited, trying to ease the upset in his own stomach. The man sighed. "You spoke with the sheriff, but he is not easily swayed. Knowing what you did, you were lucky a flogging was all you received."

"What?" Robin met his gaze, confusion settling in.

"Forgive me, Master Robin," the man had drawn back into a formal tone. "I did not mean any offense; I just…"

"I was flogged?" That Robin could not believe. A flogging was peculiar punishment, usually reserved for repetitive thieves or insubordinate guards. He had seen it happen before, but had never felt the bite of a whip himself.

"Surely you remember?" Dan watched him skeptically.

Robin would have said the same to anyone else as well. That would be something not easily forgotten. But how could he remember when it had never happened? When he didn't respond, Dan explained.

"When you failed to convince the sheriff to pardon them, you went to free them yourselves. I did not learn till later of what you had done. Your plan would have worked too, had the sheriff not caught you. Had it been myself, or anyone else, for that matter, the sheriff would have had them hang with the others. But you…the sheriff valued you too much. The flogging was done in private, but the sheriff made sure it was well known that it took place."

The news was chilling, a deep unsettling feeling in his stomach that made him all the more ill. Robin was determined he might never eat again, each new discovery threatening to lose what he had taken in. Whether this was a dream, or a reality he had tried so hard to forget, Robin was no longer sure. He knew there was a life he could remember with such vividness and detail that it could not possibly be a dream. Yet what he was facing here, what he was seeing now, was just as real. Old friends that had died in front of his eyes were still alive, and those who he had held so close not long ago had been dead for years. These were truths he could not deny, neither could he condone them.

Robin knew he had to find out what had happened; he had to find some way to make sense out of what could not be true.

He had stayed for a time before excusing himself. He enjoyed Dan's company, but Robin also wanted to give Much more time. The man would no doubt warn Marian; it seemed as though the two were working together, and Robin was glad. He trusted Much even if the man wasn't so receptive towards him anymore. With any luck Marian would watch her step with more care; if she were to be discovered, Robin was not sure what would take place. That was a lie; he knew, he just didn't want to think of it.

So when he came through the threshold, he made as much noise as possible. Before he had listened in on their words, keeping the secret to himself, but whatever might be said between them now was a greater risk. Robin could not tell how they might react even if they believed he had overheard. Yet there was no worry; Much was alone in the main room, watching as he came in.

"Master, I was starting to worry, I—"

"Is Marian here?" That was what he wanted to know. The hour had drawn late, so he suspected she might have already retired to bed. If that was the case, Robin could not be certain if they had spoken. But it was confirmed for sure as Much shook his head.

"She is not yet home."

Still out, at an hour like this? Of course, he himself had only just returned, but Robin could only imagine one reason for Marian to be out this late. The thought worried him. Whether or not she was responsible for the missing shares the night before he could not say for certain. But he did know that the sheriff would have more guards about, more men to keep an eye out for the ghostly figure that flitted through the night. She had been wounded before, as the Nightwatchman…at least for what he could remember.

But apparently Gisborne had never been Lord of Locksley here, and so she would have never been cornered. But what about all the other times? Robin knew full well that Gisborne had bested her more than once. How close had the man come to discovering her identity?

He heard it then, as did Much. Robin could see the man stiffen at the sound of the barn door, the clopping of hooves. Someone was just returning to Locksley, and Robin didn't have to guess who it was to know.

"I'll um, I'll make some food. Yes. It's been a long day, you should go and rest. I'll bring some food up to you."

"There's someone in the barn," Robin answered. He knew what Much was doing; causing a distraction, allowing Marian enough time to keep her secret concealed. But Robin would not allow it to happen. There was no better time to confront her about this business than catching her in action. He could talk to her, warn her himself about what he was supposed to do. No matter how much she upheld the Nightwatchman, it would have to stop, for her own safety.

Much was scrambling after him in a vast hurry as Robin left the manor. Every excuse, the most the man had said since Robin first awoke to this cruel reality, pouring from his lips. When he reached the barn door he could feel the man grab him, attempt to pull him away, but Robin would not be detoured. The two of them stumbled into the barn as the door opened, coming to a quiet stop as they watched her.

It was Marian, not the Nightwatchman as they both had suspected, a frown on her features as she moved out of the way for a stable boy who took care of her horse.

"My lady!" Much let out a breath near him, stammering over his words. "We thought…uh, yes, we thought; Robin thought there was someone in here."

"How observant," came the cool reply. "Are you always this attentive?"

"Marian," Robin shook his head, but he could admit he felt just as relieved. Even now he wasn't sure what he would have said if she had been clad as the phantom. He could easily bring it up now, corner her, make her agree to give it up. But she would retaliate, call him a fool, and deny any accusation. What she would do after Robin could not say, and he did not want to risk losing her. The thought was fleeting, but very much there, and he pushed it from his mind.

"You're out awfully late."

"Forgive me, _milord,_" she answered bitterly, turning away from him. "I've forgotten that you are the only one allowed to leave without permission. It won't happen again."

"You know that's not what I meant," he ground out irritably. Robin could not say what had cast her in such a foul mood, but perhaps it was due to the fact she had been caught unaware. If Robin had caught her like this, then catching her as the Nightwatchman was just as easy. Casting suspicion off with anger and bitterness; she had used that tactic more than once.

"I'm sorry." The response came quietly. Her face was more relaxed when she faced him again. "I have just been busy. A friend of mine has fallen ill; she is not doing well."

"Sara?" It was a guess, but he could see the confusion in her face.

"Her daughter…Jess. But how did you—"

"Much, told me," Robin answered quickly, understanding just then that he was not supposed to have known in the first place. He could see Marian watching the other man, Much behind him shifting uncomfortably.

"Oh, he did?"

"It does not matter," Robin answered before Much could say a word. The two would argue over the simple fact later, Robin knew. Much had not told him anything, he would say so, and Marian would believe him. "It is late, we should get our rest."

"You've been out all day as well?"

Robin didn't pull away as she reached out, her hand coming to a rest on the side of his face. He winced as she felt the cut, the woman letting out a sigh. "We'll have to clean it again. I told you it was too early for you to be out."

"I spoke with the sheriff," he answered simply, following her back to the manor. There was a slight glance his way, but nothing said as they worked their way upstairs. It was strange coming back here, to be able to change into fresh linen, to have a soft bed…a wife. Marian sat down near him, finally responding as she began to work on cleaning his wound.

"What is it that he wanted?"

_He wants me to kill you. _The words were there, just on the edge of his lips, but he swallowed them the next moment. She could not know. Marian would not give it up, had refused to do so before, even after she had almost died. The business had gotten her into a fair amount of trouble, but her need to help the poor was as strong and fierce as Robin's was. He was starting to become convinced that if he said a word to her, it would drive a wedge between them. No; Much would be the one to tell her, to caution her.

"He wanted me to sentence the mother; he was going to hang her."

"Was?" Marian caught quickly, stilling her movements as she watched him.

"I did not allow it."

She was still watching him, but nodded after a moment and began cleaning once more. Robin flinched at the pressure, unsure if she believed him, or was simply bewildered. The look in her eyes had said just as much, but Robin refused to believe that Marian would even think he would follow through with such a deed.

"How did you get the sheriff to agree with that?"

"He was more interested in other matters," Robin answered quietly. He believed it to be true as well, the tax proposal and the Nightwatchman business having taken over the conversation. Had the sheriff had nothing better to boast about, he might have not allowed it.

"There is to be a tax increasement."

She stopped at these words, watching him. "You said you were against them?" A question or statement, Robin did not know. He nodded his answer, letting out a sigh.

"The sheriff, took liberty in making the decision for me. My word did not count."

"How much?"

"Two-fold, at the beginning of the month."

Marian was silent at first, but nodded as she set the cloth down. "That…that is tolerable. For now. How long until he passes another one? You said you were not going to allow it."

"And you said they would not make a decision with my absence," Robin reminded her, still stung by the fact she had not allowed him to go to the council as first planned.

"I did not think they would. Forgive me."

He knew he could not hold the blame against her. The feeling that the tax proposal would go through with or without him hung in his mind. There surely would have been more threats had he not agreed with it. Perhaps it was best that Vaysey had made the decision for him. At least no one was hurt in the process; more soon would be once the new taxes started. Robin let out a sigh as he lay down, his mind racing with questions. That was all he had anymore.

He turned as Marian slipped under the covers, holding her in a gentle embrace. The kiss he shared was returned, and he stayed where he was, forehead resting against hers, his eyes closed. The warmth of her body was easily felt, the gentle breaths, the enticing smell. Every sense was alive, and each one told him the same thing.

It was real. And Robin wasn't sure if he was elated to learn this, or disturbed by the darker aspect of things that were just coming to light.

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks to Kegel for the beta!

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

It was the voices that woke him. And the sun that streamed through the linens that covered the window told him he should have been up long ago. So why had no one roused him?

Robin was alone, the ache in his head down to a dim whisper after the long slumber, a more, pressing need filling him as he lay there. He could barely remember the last time he had eaten, and now it seemed to be catching up to him. Still he lay where he was for a time, taking in the sounds of outside, hearing the low voices echo in the room beneath him. Then curiosity got the better of him, and Robin found himself moving quietly across the floor.

Like the first night, Robin paused at the top of the stairs, easily noting both Marian's and Much's voices. They were spoken in hushed whispers, dying out altogether when a set of footsteps entered the room. Robin could hear Thornton's voice, speaking with Marian about supplies that were needed for the manor. Marian answered in return, and the steps slowly faded. Once they had, the voices started again. Robin moved closer, picking up on the last few words that were said by Marian.

"…won't know."

"Milady," Much was a bit harder to hear, but Robin could just make out his voice. "Please, it is too dangerous."

"You are asking me to do something I cannot," Marian warned him, her voice sharp. There was a pause, and her voice was softer, almost coming out as a whisper. "I have always been doing this, and the sheriff has always wanted the Nightwatchman killed. Nothing has changed."

"But Robin-"

"Robin is the least of my concerns. I've been doing this under his nose for years, and still he hasn't the faintest of clues. Rather he's busy with the sheriff, and earning his approval, for what I do not know. He cares for no one but himself."

The jibe stung, Robin biting his lip in order to keep himself from protesting. Now was not the time to engage in an argument with her, and instead he found himself wondering exactly what had taken place over the years he could no longer remember.

"That is not wholly true," Much spoke then, and Robin found himself listening intently once more. "He saved that mother, and her child, he gave them money to get to the abbey."

"One person, Much," Marian was quick in reminding him. "Now tell me, how many have died because of him?" When there was no response, she continued. "No one has died because of me, but several have lived. And if Robin knew any better, he would be trying to do the same."

"The sheriff would have him hang," Much commented quietly.

"That is Robin's concern; he should have stood up to the sheriff when he first came to Nottinghamshire. My father, Edward, he was a good sheriff. Robin could have defended him, could have gone against the new sheriff. There were other nobles that would have supported him. Instead he waited…and now most of those nobles are dead."

Robin pulled himself away, his stomach tight, and all thoughts of food gone. Alone in the room once more, he let out a sigh, closing his eyes as he sunk against the wall. So, he had stayed quiet, he had let Vaysey come to power. And now not only did he not have the support of any of the nobles, but even his own wife and his friend had turned their backs on him.

Where did this leave him then? His friends, the men that had fought by his side for years were gone. Dead now, or lost, somewhere, and most likely would not be found. Those he thought he could trust held him in disdain, and the one man that was his enemy seemed to be the one person who favored him. The question came back, strong as ever, the accusation clear as though it just had been spoken. How many people _had _died because of him?

It was a vow he made, right then and there, to set things straight. Whatever wrongs he had done, however this had come to pass, he would make them right. But how? John was now the king, and surely just as cold-hearted and uncaring as he been back before when his brother ruled. Had Richard been here, it would be a simple matter of addressing the king himself. But would Richard have listened? Before going to war, they had never spoken directly, and it was through his fighting prowess that he even became acquainted in the war.

Yet apparently Robin hadn't gone to war, hadn't met the king. Hadn't saved him…not that any of it mattered. The king was still dead, and that left John on the throne. And Robin doubted making an appeal to him would do any good. There was little that could be done about that. But what about the sheriff? What if he could be replaced, another man installed? One that was fairer, who was more just, even in trying times such as these? It would be a start, but Robin had to be careful.

If assassinating the man had been that simple, he figured it would have been done long ago, by another. Robin knew he would first have to learn the logistics of this new world he was in before he took any real action. And he would have to find help, somewhere, somehow. Much, he figured, he might be able to turn given time. Maybe even Marian, if it was done correctly…but even then he wasn't so certain. She was the last person he wanted to endanger, despite the words she had just so recently spoken about him.

Quickly he dressed, strapping on his belt, and collecting his sword and bow. He was met with questionable looks as he came down, both Marian and Much still in the common room. Quickly Much moved to his feet, entering the kitchen as Robin sat down. A moment later, a bowl of stew was in front of him, along with fresh bread, a slice of cheese and a bowl of fruit. Despite his earlier thoughts, the hunger had set back in, and Robin soon found himself eating, but at a loss as to what to say.

"Thornton has gone to get some supplies, part of the roof needs thatching," Marian was the first to start, fingers playing lightly over a bit of fabric with a needle and thread. Robin found himself grinning slightly at the sight. So she did enjoy embroidery. Or maybe it still was a show; Robin always had speculated it was simply a front, to cover for her Nightwatchman business.

"I think I will go and visit Sarah again, later this evening," she continued when he said nothing. "I should like to see how her daughter is fairing."

He thought over this briefly, wondering if there was truth behind this, or another excuse to go out as the Nightwatchman. He could stop her, claim to want her home, but Robin knew that would not stop her if it was the case. More than anything he hated the idea of her sneaking about as the phantom, even more so after learning what he was supposed to do. He could also remember what she had spoken earlier, about his lack of involvement, and Robin knew that if he tried anything to hold her back, it would only drive them further apart. It was a dilemma in the making, but Robin found himself only able to nod. Sooner or later, he would have to confront her. But for now…

They both turned, the shouts filling the air, a commotion taking place outside. Robin was first on his feet, food forgotten and out the door to witness what was going on. Marian had followed, as had Much, neither speaking a word.

The man was on the ground, endless pleads escaping him as his hands were bound. The guards that hauled him to his feet next were lacking in the same compassion, pushing the man forward. Near him, Marian started to move, but Robin was quick in cutting her off, making his way to where the horses were mounted.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Sorry for the disturbance, milord," the first guard nodded to him apologetically, as though what was happening was a mere inconvenience. "We are just taking this man back Nottingham to face trial."

"I haven't done anything," the man protested, silenced only by a sharp slap from one of the other guards.

"What is his crime?" Robin inquired, his gaze darkening at the treatment of the man. He did not recognize the peasant, but assumed that he was from Locksley seeing that they had apprehended him here.

"Poaching," the first guard boasted as though it was an achievement to catch a thief in action. "He was caught in the forest, the little beggar tried to run. Didn't get very far, as you can see. Everything is under control here."

"I didn't take no deer," the man protested. "I didn't even have a bow, just a knife. You can't kill a deer with that. I was just passing through, honest!"

"Sure you were," the guard laughed.

Robin ignored the rebuff, turning instead to the man. "What is your name?"

"We don't have time for this," the first guard let out a sigh, about to continue but it was Marian who cut him off.

"My husband is lord of this manor, and this is happening on his lands. He has the right to at least question the man."

There was a bout of silence, then the guard nodded, a rough pull on the rope nearly toppling the man over. "Well, runt, answer him."

"Henry," the man sputtered, "Son of Thomas."

Robin nodded, looking up at the guard. "Did you see Henry kill the deer?"

"Well, no," the guard confessed, but his voice turned bitter the next moment. "Don't have to see anything. Deer have been being poached in these woods the last few months. We have the person responsible, and that is the end of it."

"If you did not see it, how do you know it was him?" Marian questioned. "There are others in the forest; thieves have loitered there for years. If it is anyone, it is them, is it not?"

"I do not question the law," the man sneered, "neither should you, you speak out of turn."

"I do not, however," Robin took a step forward. "Since you have apprehended this man on my lands, I feel it my duty to oversee what happens to him. Take him to Nottingham, but see he receives good care, and that nothing happens to him until I have spoken with the sheriff. Otherwise you will have me to answer to. Do I make myself clear?"

There was a bit of uncertainty in their voices, but slowly they agreed. The look of hope on Henry's face was enough to relieve some of the aggravation that had been pent up inside of him. Still, Robin wondered if what he had just done was perhaps the wisest. As the man was led away, Robin turned, to find both Marian and Much watching him questioningly. He brushed it off, and made his way inside, sitting back down at the table.

By now his food was cold, but that was of little concern, for the hunger was once again gone. When the others followed, he did not give them a chance to respond.

"I will be going to Nottingham today, the sooner the better I fear. Much, will you come as well?"

The man nodded, his voice hesitant as he answered. "Of course, master, if that is what you wish."

"Good, prepare the horses. We will leave at once."

* * *

><p>The sheriff wasn't exceptionally pleased to see him. Robin had gone in alone, leaving Much to tend to the horses. Robin hoped, with any luck, this would be a short matter. The less time he spent here in the presence of the sheriff, the better off he would be.<p>

"What is it now, Locksley?" the sheriff demanded as he entered. The man was lounging in his great chair, one leg slung over the side, resting on a stool not too far away. Not exactly the most graceful manner he had ever donned, but rather one that showed of pure languidness, as though he himself had risen from bed only minutes ago.

"There was an incident in Locksley earlier this morning," Robin cut right down to he wanted. There was no point in trying to dance around the subject. "A man was arrested on false charges."

"Well that is a sob story, now isn't it? Don't tell me that you came all the way here to whine about that?"

"Is it a custom to punish innocent people now?"

"None of them are innocent, I can assure you," Vaysey replied wearily, rising from his chair. "We're all guilty of one thing or another, the only difference is that people like you and me can get away with it. I, more than you, of course, which I am sure you know. Now, what is the real reason you are here?"

Robin watched him, gaze unchanged as he answered. "I want the man to be released."

"Oh, not this again," came the dreary sigh. "Locksley, need I remind you of your duties? Of your obligations? It is your duty to take care Locksley, to follow my command, and support King John in his ambitions. Racing after old fools who have done themselves in is no concern of yours."

"Tell me, what does it matter to you if this man goes free or not?"

"Let me think…do I want to allow a guilty man to go free…a clue? No," the man shook his head. "If we want justice, we must uphold the law. We let one man go, and then they'll all want to be freed."

"What is he guilty of?" Robin pressed him. "If his crime is so heinous, then surely you already know?"

"I cannot possibly know the doings of every wretched peasant in Nottinghamshire," came the counter. "Whatever his crime is, he will pay accordingly."

"As sheriff it is custom to oversee a noble's request," Robin pointed out. He had used this once before, without any luck, but things were different now. Far different.

"First the leper, then this? Don't tell me," the man suddenly laughed, holding up a finger to wave in his face. "You want a husband for that wretched leper you set free? What are you, the bringer of love now? Or is it because your little Marian can't stand to see you go back to another woman? A way of ridding yourself of temptation?"

The barb angered him, but he held his tongue as the man laughed. Riling him up would not achieve what he wanted. His voice was crisp as he spoke next, pointing out clearly what he wanted. "I request that you pardon him."

"Very well," the sheriff snorted, laughing still. "If that is your _request_. Honestly, Locksley, you surprise me. I never imagined you would be that sort of type. But if it will stop you from your constant nagging, I'll let you have your little prisoner, do with him as you wish."

"And the guards will stay off my lands," Robin added, the thought coming to him then. "I will take care of any wrongdoings on my lands from now on, as it should be done."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," the sheriff warned, easing himself back down in his chair. "You should see Gisborne while you are here. The two of you have some catching up to do concerning the new tax increase. He was most eager to get started, but of course stated he would wait until you were ready. I assume you are, seeing your…vigor."

"What about the prisoner?"

"Oh, la-di-da," Vaysey rolled his eyes, "Honestly, out of all the things. Go get your little bundle of joy, I'm sure you know the way. And Locksley…don't forget. I still want that information."

Robin paused, unsure of what to say, but finally gave a nod as he departed. It wasn't exactly how he had planned it, but at least he had done it. Henry would go free, at least for now.

* * *

><p>It was the second time in two days he had been there. The jailer regarded him slyly, at first questioning the request to set a prisoner free. Yet when Robin offered to involve the sheriff in the matter, the jailer finally moved.<p>

There were a few more prisoners down here than the day before. It seemed being arrested was a common trait, and Robin could fathom that most, if not all the prisoners down here, were innocent. Nottingham was now a place of uncertainty, where one could be arrested for simply looking at someone the wrong way. Robin fought the wave of repulsion that swept through him, checking each of the cells as he went by. As he crossed one, he came to a stop, confusion marking his features. It couldn't be…

"Allan?"

The man on the other side met his gaze quickly in confirmation, but he made no move to get to his feet. Instead he stayed where he was, at the back of the cell, watching Robin as if trying to place how they knew one another. So it was him…Robin couldn't believe it. He was alive, he was here. Someone he knew, someone that knew him, Allan had to know who he was…didn't he?

"This is the one you want," the jailer called to him, catching Robin's attention. He turned, watching as the door was opened, and the man dragged out. Henry was shaking, obviously frightened, unsure of what was going on.

"He will return to Locksley with me," Robin informed the jailer. Then he turned his gaze back to the cell. "What is this man in here for?"

"A regular troublemaker he is," the jailer laughed, pushing Henry forward. Robin glared at him, the jailer letting go a moment later with a sheepish look. He cleared his throat, "Been in here before, that one has. Causing trouble back at the Tripp, always stealing from pockets. Lost a few fingers already, but the sheriff's done with that. He'll hang in the morning."

On the other side, Robin could hear Allan snort. "Better to die than go on living like this."

"No one will be dying," Robin turned to the jailer. "He'll be returning to Locksley with me as well. Open the cell."

"You must be crazy."

"The sheriff is allowing me to take him," Robin nodded to where Henry stood, trembling still. "He will allow this one to come as well."

"I'd have to hear that from the sheriff himself."

"Well then, by all means go and ask him. And once you are done interrupting him about trivial matters, you can then come back and do as I first told you."

The jailer was quiet, watching him with a glare before he finally nodded. "Fine then, if the sheriff says so, then by all means we can't argue with that."

Allan had moved to his feet by this time, the exchange getting the better of his curiosity. When the door was opened he let out a laugh, holding up his hands in appreciation. "Really, my friend, I can't thank you enough for your kindness. You know, I was never supposed to be here in the first place? They keep mixing me up with some other rascal, what's his name? Allan-a-Dale, that's right. Really, it's not fair, I go about, minding my own business, and this is how I get treated for it, can you believe that?"

"Have you ever wondered if it is your lying that gets you into so much trouble?"

At this, Allan paused, pursing his lips, perhaps just remembering that Robin somehow already knew his name. He gave a cheeky grin, shrugging his shoulders as he followed the others out. "So, where are we goin' then?"

"Locksley," Robin answered simply. He knew the sheriff expected him to meet with Gisborne, but all of that would happen later. Right now he wanted Henry and Allan out of there, before the sheriff changed his mind. No doubt the man would be furious with what he had just done, but the risk was worth it.

There was someone else alive from his past, the past he knew to be true. A past, that he most certainly needed to find.

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks to Kegel for the beta!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Eight<strong>

Much had been bewildered to see him return with the two other men. Robin ignored his questioning look, mounting his horse instead. Allan rode with him, Henry along with Much as they returned to Locksley. Allan was particularly vocal on his ride back, half of what he said most likely a lie or at least a well-stretched truth. Robin did not stop him, listening instead to all of the things the man had to say. Hoping, perhaps, to find answers to some of the questions he still had.

There was not much surprise to Allan's story. When asked about his hand, Allan had confessed to poaching, as well as too much drink and tricks at the Inn. Robin could remember the day he had first met Allan, back in the forest. He and Much had been on their way to Locksley after returning from the war, had arrived just in time to save him then. At least he had…

Now it seemed as though Allan had actually paid the price of his finger. More than one, though Allan claimed to have lost the second from another incident entirely. Still that had not detoured him, the man finding himself in deeper trouble, destined to hang, until Robin came along that was.

As he told his story, with the most part a grin on his face, Robin had managed to catch a glimpse of Much, who, more often than not, had his face turned into a repulsive expression, shaking his head as the story become more elaborate.

By the time they reached the manor, Allan's story had tapered off, yet the man was still in high spirits. He dismounted as Robin brought the horse to a stop, stretching and complaining of the soreness that accompanied one after such a ride.

"Well, friend, I can't thank you enough for what you did," he started to say, "Really, never expected anyone to save the likes of me. Well, I guess that this is it, then? I'll be seeing you around, maybe? Hopefully not in the dungeons. Not being funny, but I don't like being down there anymore than the next guy."

"It doesn't seem like it," Much commented dryly, dismounting from his horse. Robin moved as well, handing the reigns over to him.

"You'll be staying here," Robin was not about to let Allan simply leave, just like that. Not after having such luck in finding him as he did.

"What?!"

The outcry had come from both Allan, and Much, at roughly the same time. It was all Allan could say, but Much crept near him, his voice low.

"Master, you can't be serious. He is a…a thief!"

"Whoa," Allan held his hands up, having overheard the comment. "I'm not like you, alright, I don't have a fancy place to live; I don't have a choice, I have to steal."

"Everything is a choice," Robin corrected him, remembering so well the words Marian had told him, whether that had been a dream or reality. He could go into an argument over it, but felt as though it would be pointless at this time and place. Instead, he chose a different route.

"The sheriff will not be pleased when he finds out I secured your freedom. He will have guards out looking for you, and without doubt you will receive a far worse fate than hanging when you are caught. Which you will be if you take off."

"So I'm supposed to stay here, wait for them to come for me? I don' think so."

"Here you will be under my protection. The sheriff has agreed to leave matters of my estate for me to handle; and you will work off your wrongdoings here."

"You can't be serious!" Much protested again, shaking his head.

"Work?" Allan seemed perplexed. "Not being funny, but I didn' agree to any work. I'm not going to parade around as some…some servant."

"Excuse me? I'll have you know that-"

Robin cut Much off in mid-sentence, hardly bothering to look in his direction. Instead his gaze was focused on Allan. "Your other option, of course, is to leave. And when you are arrested again, I will not save you. The sheriff will have you tortured, and then hanged, if you are lucky. But of course, the choice is yours."

For a long moment Allan stood there, weighing his decisions, figuring the consequences to the action he would take. Robin was hoping the man was smart enough to take the offer. Robin needed for him to do so, had to somehow find a way, alone with him, to speak with him about what had happened in the past. And then, he would have to convince the man to fight. But first, he needed for the man to stay.

"What's a little work between friends, right?"

The answer came with a bit of a nonchalant shrug, as if it were no concern whereas moments ago it had been an insult. Allan took one of the horses from Much, grinning as he patted the creature on the neck.

"So, what do I do then? Start with this girl? Get her cleaned, fed? Or we talking more of inside stuff? I don' do cooking-"

"I should say not," Much grumbled quietly, "Only I do the cooking here, and I'll have you know-"

"Much," Robin cut him off again, shaking his head. It was starting to hurt again. "He will be your responsibility."

Much was protesting something fierce, dropping his voice so that he would not be overheard.

"Master, he is a thief…a…a beggar. Why me? Can't you send him off to…to the abbey? Yes, that is a good place for him. He will learn how to not steal, and be godly and all that stuff. Why must he stay here?"

"Much, my friend," Robin responded, hoping that Much would understand what he was trying to say. "I know that you do not understand, but hopefully it will make sense soon." _For the both of us_, he thought quietly. "For now, I need for you to watch him, make sure he does not go off."

"And if he does?"

"Then you follow him, and let me know."

Much seemed to hesitate, but nodded shortly, still with a grimace on his face. Robin could tell he was not happy with the decision, but he did not argue any further. Instead he turned to Allan, a sigh on his lips as he nodded his head towards him.

"Let's get the horses in."

"And what of me, milord?"

Henry had stayed silent for most the exchange, still timid, unsure of what he was doing here. Robin studied him for a moment, trying to come up with some conclusion. He did not need any help at the manor; Allan's position there was for his own convenience, but what would he do with the other man he had spared from death?

"Where are you from?"

"Clun, milord. With my wife, Anne; she will be worried."

"Tell me, the truth now, were you poaching?"

"I," the man hesitated, faltered, as if trying to decide if it was wise to lie. Robin did not break his gaze, and soon the man confessed.

"I did it only because we were starving. It was not for a deer, I promise you that. I was looking for a coonie, they have young at this time, I was hoping, maybe I could find a burrow, find a way to feed my wife. I'm a fuller, I don't know how to hunt! Please, milord, I beg you, do not take me back to the sheriff! Without me, my wife…what will she do?"

"I will give you some food," Robin calmed the upset man down. Henry seemed utterly surprised, having expected no doubt a serious reprimand, but here instead was being offered salvation. Robin did his best to not let it bother him. It was difficult, difficult that the man expected for Robin to throw him to the wolves so shortly after rescuing him.

"Milord?"

"I will give you enough food to feed you and your wife for the next coming days. On one condition."

"Anything, milord," Henry agreed rapidly. He seemed as though he would even offer himself to go back to the dungeons if it meant food for his wife. Yet Robin had other plans.

"You will take your wife, and you will leave Nottinghamshire. If you have family out of the shire, then go to them. Otherwise find somewhere, as far away as you can, where your wife and you will be safe. I cannot promise the sheriff will oblige my request forever, and I do not wish for the two of you to bear the brunt of his anger."

"Of course, I shall, thank you, I can't thank you enough," he was clasping Robin's hand now, an earnest squeeze, doing his best to keep from crying. Robin pulled the man into an embrace, feeling his own ache residing in knowing that he was helping someone, even if was only one man. Slowly, but surely, he would make things right. This he had to remind himself.

"And stay clear of the forest, stick to the roads, but make haste. I fear you will not have a lot of time, so do not stall any longer than you must. And tell no one, do I make myself clear?"

Henry nodded, having found nothing to argue against. Robin stepped away, beckoning for the man to follow him inside. How much food Locksley had to spare, Robin was not certain. But he would do his best to provide the fuller and his wife with enough to get started.

* * *

><p>Marian was not exceptionally pleased to learn about Allan. Robin found it slightly ironic, figuring she would be pleased with actions in rescuing yet another man from the dungeons. So far in all, three people had been saved because of him; possibly more if one counted their loved ones that were depending on them. Yet Marian barely spoke with him, and when she did her words were crisp and to the point.<p>

Allan, for the most part, actually put effort into the work, but Much was still skeptical about the man being around as well. Robin couldn't help but smile, when in the morning, the two could be heard quarreling from within the kitchen. For the first time it felt as though at least one thing hadn't changed.

But that feeling did not last for long. Shortly after breakfast had been finished, there was a knock at their door. And moments later, Thornton returned, announcing Gisborne's arrival.

"Robin," Gisborne greeted him with a nod, before turning to Marian. "Lady Marian."

There was the smallest smile on his face as he addressed her, and Marian in return smiled as well. It was hardly anything, but a hint of jealously flared up in Robin that he desperately tried to ignore. Did Marian still feel for him? He tried to shake the idea off, tried to tell himself he was being unreasonable. Marian was his wife, had chosen him over Gisborne. Would she be here if she had? Certainly not.

"You are ready to travel?"

Robin was confused, not having arranged any plans to travel, let alone with Gisborne. The look on his face must have said it all, because the man was already explaining himself.

"To Nottingham; for the proclamations regarding the taxes? And of course the collections. I am sure you have already gathered from Locksley?"

"No," Robin shook his head. He had not; nor did he intend to. But of course, he couldn't rightly say that. Instead he forced a smile, as politely as he could before he nodded to the man.

"I admit I have fallen a little behind due to the state of my recent affairs," he indicated his head with a wave of his hand. "But I will have the money ready shortly. I will meet with you in Nottingham?"

"You still have time to gather them, as long as they are in by the week's end. Come, the sheriff is awaiting us."

Out of excuses, Robin had little choice but to agree. Exactly what he was going to do in regards to the taxes he wasn't sure, but he would do all he could to ensure he wouldn't be taking from his people anymore than what they could afford. And if he could help it, he wouldn't be taking anything at all. Desperately he wished that was the case; but taxes were a part of life, and always had been. Reasonable taxes, yes. But what the sheriff was expecting was beyond reason.

Gisborne had excused himself, indicating he would wait outside. Robin rose to his feet, pausing momentarily as he thought over what he would do in regards to Much. Normally he would bring the man along with him, yet apparently Gisborne, as well as the sheriff, didn't seem too pleased with the idea.

Furthermore, it would mean bringing Allan along as well, concerning that Robin did not yet trust the man enough to think that he wouldn't head for the forest shortly after their departure. And that would be far worse, not only in opinion of them both, but to subject Allan to the sheriff so shortly after his release.

Robin wondered mildly if the sheriff had yet to even learn about that escapade, and if so, what his response would be. These were the thoughts with him as he rode out with Gisborne; and shortly were confirmed as they reached the Great North Road.

"So the sheriff tells me that you've taking a liking to saving peasants recently," came the dry comment. Gisborne was riding ahead of him, his black steed marching at a quickened pace. He slowed the horse down, however, so that Robin could ride abreast of him.

"I just don't feel it necessary to punish those who are innocent," Robin's reply was quick. It wasn't one he necessarily had to think of. Yet he cautioned himself; this was Gisborne he was talking to, a man by all means should be his sworn enemy. If, by any rationalization that his memory served correctly, it was Gisborne who had tried to kill King Richard. Or, according to everyone's statement, Gisborne had indeed succeeded in killing the king. Though that information, he suspected, was known only to the privileged.

Still, he wondered, if the war was a simple fabrication of his mind, a fact proven by the lack of scaring on his side, then how would he have any proof that Gisborne was indeed the culprit responsible for slaying the king? Robin found himself watching Gisborne curiously, wondering if the tattoo he had supposedly seen all that time ago was still there, and if it was, was it unchanged like his own skin?

There would be no way to tell; Gisborne wore the leather as he always had, not a bit of skin showing save for his face and neck, and without any good reason, Gisborne always would. It would seem to forward to ask; Robin had no way of knowing if he was supposed to be enlightened in this matter, and attempting to spy on him seemed to be not only an unnecessary risk, but downright strange and slightly disturbing.

"You can't save everyone, Locksley," Gisborne replied, oblivious to his glances. "Besides, if you put as much consideration towards your wife as you do towards strangers, perhaps you wouldn't have such difficulties with your arrangement."

It was meant to be a blow, and it brought him up short. Sensing he had stopped, Gisborne turned his own steed to face him.

"You look surprised?" Gisborne seemed curious. "You think it is a secret? That no one within the shire speaks of it?"

"Of what?"

The man laughed, not one of scorn, but of disbelief. "Of the fact that you have been with Marian for five years, and yet have not one child to your name? Rumors abound she cannot bear children, but I refuse to believe that, myself. So tell me, then, what else could it possibly be?"

Robin opened his mouth to respond, to defend the unspoken accusation, but found he could not follow through. Of course he hadn't thought about it yet, because for him the time seemed too sudden. He had been with Marian for but a few days…and yet it apparently had been years. So why then, were there no children?

"A man of few words?" Gisborne shook his head. "So the sheriff was correct, you have to fulfill your needs elsewhere."

"No," Robin cut him off curtly, nudging his horse into a trot as he passed by the man. Gisborne, it seemed, hadn't changed completely from what he remembered. He tried to ignore what had been said, but it was getting increasingly difficult to do so.

"And of the woman you freed? What does she mean to you?"

"Nothing. She means nothing."

"Then why waste such effort?"

"Because it was the right thing to do," Robin ground out between his teeth. "It is something you wouldn't understand."

"Do not play coy with me, Robin," Gisborne warned, catching up with him. "I have put my neck on the line for your more than once, and I can as easily put you back on the block if you cross me."

Robin turned to look at him, wondering to what he could possibly mean. Gisborne, risking himself, for another? That did not sound normal. Yet, hardly anything here did anymore.

"Don't be so naive," Gisborne shook his head. "After all, a sound lashing is a far cry from a hanging, wouldn't you agree?"

He didn't wait for Robin's response, merely rode on ahead. Robin's mind was racing, back to what Dan had told him before, that the sheriff had made his flogging publicly known. It had been alluded to that things could have been worse…had it been Gisborne's idea to spare him from hanging? Quickly he spurred his mount on in an effort to catch up with Gisborne who had taken the lead.

The man said nothing further, to which Robin was grateful for. The silence was easier to deal with than trying to reason with Gisborne's logic, a man who he still wasn't fully willing to trust. By all means they should be enemies considering all that had been done.

But if that was true, then why had Gisborne taken measures to protect him? Not only according to his word, but Robin could also remember the few times in the recent past where Gisborne had come up with excuses to explain Robin's reasoning. Reasoning, no doubt, that most likely would have gotten him in trouble. Would it not be easier for Gisborne to simply not interfere if that was the case? There were even more questions now that he could not bring himself to answer.

Ahead of him, Gisborne cleared his throat, catching his attention.

"We have the support already of a few of the villages; the tax increase won't come as a surprise to them. I've tried talking the sheriff again to draw a larger amount from Treeton, with little success, of course."

"Why should they pay a larger amount than the others?"

"Lord Walter makes a large profit off the mines and the Saracen slaves, profit that could be used to help us, to help the king. The both of us have pointed this out numerous times to the sheriff, but he won't yield. Of course, Lord Walter pays him a fee each month, a bribe of sorts. That way they both profit from the deal, unlike the rest of us."

Robin found himself coming up short, the horse beneath him protesting at the constant indecision of its rider's directions. That he cared little about. Instead his mind was racing, remembering Treeton, remembering the mines. He and his men had shut them down, had done so to stop the human trafficking, had set the Saracens free…it was where they had met Djaq.

But now…Robin urged his horse into a fast trot, catching up with Gisborne who hadn't even seemed to notice his companion had once again fallen behind. He found himself looking back, towards the direction that Treeton lay. Was it possible, he wondered? Would she still be there?

How long had it been? The life of a slave, of that of a miner especially, was a difficult one. He could remember the many men who had died, after going down there voluntarily. The slaves would not have that option, and no doubt that if they were sick, or injured, the sheriff would have them disposed of, and replaced by new workers. Robin could not see the man exhibiting compassion towards any of them. It was a disturbing thought.

It was then he knew what had to be done. He had done it once, he could swear it had taken place, somehow. Even if it had just been a dream then, Robin knew it could be done again. But it had to stop, _he_ had to stop it. Together, with Much and Allan, somehow he had to convince them it was the right thing to do. To shut down the mines, to free the slaves.

_And maybe_ he thought to himself, _just maybe, she would be there_. After all, he had found Allan…he was sure it was possible. And maybe, just maybe, he would find more answers to the questions he had. And for the first time since he found himself in this confusing twist of time, Robin felt as though he had something to work towards.

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks to Kegel for the beta**

**If you are reading, leave a review, let me know what you think!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

"I don't understand," the man stuttered quickly, pacing the room. Much peered out the window, before abruptly turning back to face him. He had been this anxious ever since Robin had told him of his plan. "We can't…defy the sheriff. We'll be tortured…and killed," he reached a hand for this throat, grimacing at the thought.

"I'm with him on this one," Allan voiced his own concern. He stood near the doorway, watching the scene unfold. "The sheriff will have more of a reason to hang me…"

Robin paid little attention as he finished dressing, pulling the cloak on and clasping it around his neck. It had taken a great deal of restraint to not say anything, to anyone about his plan. He had waited until Marian and the others had turned in for the night, before gathering the two men.

They stood now in the foyer, Robin turning to collect his weapons. During his travels to Nottingham, Robin had taken some time of his own to purchase a few supplies. It had been difficult; with the market suffering as it was, to find the needed items. But somehow he had managed to scrape up a few linens, and some basic weapons for the others. He tossed them now towards the two men.

Allan caught it easily, a grin on his face, while Much scrambled after his. "Master, you can't be serious!"

He had told them only briefly what they were going to do. Mostly in part because he hadn't much of a plan. Not yet. Right now it consisted of sneaking into Treeton, and finding out where the slaves were kept during the night. He would have to try and find Djaq; and if she was no longer there, then his hope resided in the fact that perhaps one of them spoke English, at least enough to communicate his intentions.

Robin would also have to see the layout of the village, would have to find out a way to get the slaves to safety without endangering any of them. He would also have to find a way to shut down the mine, but that, he suspected, would come at a later date. For tonight, he would have to be satisfied in discovering a way to free them.

"What the sheriff is doing is wrong; buying slaves, this human trafficking, is all wrong. And if no one else will stop him, then I will."

"Then why don't you go alone?" Allan wondered.

"Well, it is not nice," Much added, before Robin could respond. "I shall say that I'm glad it is not me who is down in the mines, but…they are Turks…"

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

He could see Much almost physically shrink away from his gaze. The statement alone had shocked and surprised him, angered him almost. He knew that at time Much could be blunt, sometimes self-centered, but the man always had a big heart. For him to so casually dismiss something like this…

Yet it was during the war that Much had learned the most compassion. As had he. Robin could remember growing up on the tales of the war, how he had always dreamed of fighting Turks, of being a war hero, and slaying them all. It was during the war he had learned different, had learned that they too were so much like them. Fighting for what they believed in, trying to do what they felt was the right thing to do.

And often a times if they were not killed, they were taken, sold as though they were animals, and treated hardly any better. Robin and Much had hoped to never see such a thing again when they left the war behind. But now…they had not been to war. Much could not have known…Robin let out the breath he was holding, letting his anger go.

"It does not mean they deserve to be treated as they are."

"And I don't deserve to be treated like a criminal, but you don't see the sheriff showing any compassion there, now do you?" Allan pointed out.

"You are a criminal," Much grumbled quietly, to which Allan shrugged lightly.

"Not to mention that if memory serves me correctly, you were in the dungeons awaiting execution just the other night."

"Yeah, but that was a mistake."

"On my master's part, yes-"

"Enough," Robin quieted both of them, glancing around. He did not want to risk waking the others. There would be hardly any way to explain what they were up to that any of them would believe. Most certainly Marian. Once he was certain it was safe to proceed, he continued, his voice quieter than it had been before as he explained the extent of his plan.

Most of it involved in staying away from the main road until they reached the woods. With quick travel, on horseback, they would reach Treeton in just under an hour. Robin had then planned on going in to the village alone, leaving Much and Allan behind as back-ups just in case things went wrong. Chances were that he could explain himself better if he was caught, than all three of them. If he was discovered, he could simply fall back on the excuse that he was tracking the Nightwatchman.

The thought caused him to grimace, remembering that time was quickly running out. The proclamation at Nottingham this morning involving the rising taxes had not gone over well. It had been shortly followed by yet another reminder by the sheriff of wanted information. Apparently another store from the castle had gone missing, and Robin could hardly disregard the fact that it had taken place the same night that Marian had disappeared. He would have to confront her sooner rather than later, he knew. Yet he pushed it to the back of his mind. Tonight, he had another objective.

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><p>The ride to Treeton was uneventful. Aside from Much's constant worry of being in the forest at night, and Allan's bickering in return, all was quiet. And it wasn't until Robin first saw signs of the village, that he motioned for them both to settle down. Dismounting, Robin left his steed with the others, heading in on foot.<p>

There had been but a few times Robin had actually been to Treeton. Before, from what he remembered, the village was small, always struggling. Mining was a difficult chore, a hard lifestyle that often ended in premature deaths. Families struggled to not only pay taxes, but to support themselves as well, and it was common to have an empty spot at the dinner table. There was hardly any time or effort to focus on growing or expanding with such conditions.

Yet it was clear to see that it was no longer a concern here. Treeton was easily twice the size he remembered. A firm wall was built around the perimeter, thick rows of wood bound together with twine, securing the village. Robin kept to the shadows, hood pulled up to conceal his face as he crept around the base. The gate was bolted, and guarded, forcing Robin to head further to the back. With some luck, he might be able to get around the guard, creating a distraction, but Robin had little idea of how much effort would be required in getting past the gate.

He forced himself to forget about it. Instead he found a place to hide, taking care not to be seen. In a short amount of time he was able to fasten a length of rope at the end of one arrow, before placing it in his bow. It was a relief to know that one thing hadn't changed. He hit his mark the first time, pausing to ensure that the audible 'thunk' of the arrow hitting wood hadn't drawn any attention. Then he gave it an experimental tug, and smiled, satisfied that it was going to hold.

By the time he made it down safely to the other side, Robin was grateful for the chill of the night. Sweat covered his brow, though he wasn't sure if it was from the climb, or the nerves he felt jittering inside of him. Why was he so nervous? He had infiltrated enemy camps, had led men into battle, had faced death countless of times. Now here there was hardly any threat, apparently being a trusted man of the sheriff, and he could easily talk his way out of anything if he were to be found. And all he was doing was searching for Djaq…

Yet maybe he hadn't gone to war like he so thought he had. There was no proof save for what was in his mind. The memories that seemed so real, and yet shared by no one. Was this the reason of his fear? Was this the first time he was doing such a thing? Or was it something else?

He wondered still what he would do when he found her…if he found her. Robin had no proof she was even here…if he had imagined the war, maybe he had imagined her too.

Taking a sharp breath, he stopped himself. No, he hadn't imagined the war. He couldn't start thinking like that. If he did, then everything was lost. Over and over again, he tried to tell himself this. Yet part of him wondered if everything already had been lost…

Swallowing, Robin forced himself to move. He could not simply stay there and dwell on petty facts. And he was determined to prove himself wrong. If he could find Djaq, that had to prove everything. After all, how would he know who she was unless he had gone to war?

Robin had first met her as an outlaw, when he was in the forest. After he had come back from war, and had defied the sheriff. How else would he know she was even there?

With this knowledge in his mind, he set out, keeping in the shadows as he moved across the village. It had changed quite a bit. The houses he remembered were much the same, broken and falling apart. Everything, that was, except for the manor, which had seemed to grow in considerable size. No doubt Lord Walter was reaping the benefits of the iron ore. He made a face, turning away and doing his best to ignore it altogether.

Robin only had to move a little further into the village to find what he was looking for. While the manor hardly lacked anything from the looks of it, the houses for slaves were entirely a different story. If one could even call them houses…

They were, for the most part, cages, large chunks of stone and iron built up and around, and into the wall behind on which they sat. They were open faced, allowing anyone and everyone to see in without any effort whatsoever. The faintest hint of a fire burned in an open pit in the center of one, providing little warmth, and Robin could see the faint outlines of figures stretched across the ground near it.

Checking his surrounds, Robin noted the guards who stood near, idling about and talking amongst themselves. He waited for a moment for their backs to be turned before he made his way across the grounds, sliding alongside the structure, slipping back into shadows. Most of the men who were there were asleep, and the few who were awake gave him only a single glance before turning away.

He peered through the darkness, staying low to the ground as he moved alongside the cages, searching for a familiar face. A couple of the men who were awake turned to him when Robin called out, but said nothing. Most likely they could not understand Robin, something that was beginning to become a problem. If they could not understand him…how would he help them?

Could he recreate the story of Turk Flu? Unless he found someone to which he could communicate his intentions, most likely not. And even then, how would the slaves be able to go free? Even if the guards did run from some silly superstition, the entire place was like a fort, barricaded at every turn. Robin found himself chewing on his bottom lip as he went further along, pausing as he saw another man.

He recognized him, but he didn't know why. Then after a moment, it suddenly dawned on him. The man had been with Djaq, when they had first met. He had been one to prompt Djaq to go along with the plan. He was why she had agreed. Robin pressed himself close to the bars, catching his attention.

"Can you help me?" he wondered, despite knowing the man could most likely not understand him. He gave Robin a brief glance before turning away. Robin tried again.

"Please, my friend, I am looking for someone. I am looking for Djaq."

At the name the man looked at him again, a frown on his face. The light on the fire cast a shadow across his features, making him appear forlorn. Robin risked raising his voice, repeating her name.

At the sound of his voice, the man muttered something in reply, shaking his head, his voice hardly audible. Robin was about to press him again, but was interrupted by another who had risen from the bars.

His heart sang. He knew that voice, and the breath that had been trapped inside of him suddenly rushed out. How luck was with him, and he couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as she came into view. She hung back, well out of reach, but knelt down in front of the man he had just been speaking to.

"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice almost a whisper.

Of course she wouldn't know who he was. If none of the others had, why would she be any different? Still, it was difficult to look upon her, and not recognize her as a friend.

"I'm here to help."

There was hardly any point in attempting to reminisce on old times. There was nothing for her to remember. And no reason to evade the point of why he was here. The sooner he figured this out, the better off they would be. The guards didn't seem very keen on keeping watch; most likely they had hardly had any threat to deal with and had become lax in their jobs.

"Help?" she shook her head, a frown on her face. "What help could you give?"

There was bitterness to her voice, the disbelief loud and clear.

"I will get you and the others out of here, but you must help me."

"Why?" came the first question. "And how?"

"I need to know where the keys are kept," Robin told her, reaching up to touch the heavy lock that encompassed the bars. It was not a type of lock that could easily be picked, nor could one simply just smash it open. Not without drawing unwanted attention.

"And I am supposed to tell you?"

"You would have a far better idea than I," he pointed out. There were places he could look; the manor, the guard's houses, the guards themselves…but he did not have the time to do so. And something in him led him to believe that Djaq knew where they might be.

She was silent, one hand gripping the bars as she watched him. Finally she sighed, shaking her head. "Why should I believe that you want to help? You and your people came to my land, you killed our people, and treat us like animals. You feel sorry now? Try and make yourself feel better?"

"I want to stop this," Robin clarified, sensing her anger despite the fact her voice was calm. "It is not right. Will you help me?"

"And what is it that you want? How can we trust that what you say is true? How do we know you do not just wish to use us as slaves for something else?"

Here Robin hesitated; his first goal was to set them free. He was hoping to win Djaq's loyalty. He knew it was there, she had given it to him once. Even now he felt more than certain…for how would he know who she was if he had never met her? The ever-constant reminder that something was not right was with him, tugging at the edges of his mind. She would not turn away from him like this, would not subject herself to this…this cruel game if that was what it was.

How would he convince her of the same? If he told her here what he knew, would she believe him? Or would she simply believe he was crazy? Would she refuse to help, or was she daring enough to accept his offer just for the chance at freedom? He took a breath, realizing that he had to try.

"You can trust me," he told her softly, keeping his voice low. "You have before…though you may not remember it."

"I have never met you," she answered coldly.

"Maybe not here, maybe at another time," he wasn't sure exactly how to explain it. He hadn't even explained it fully to himself of what was going on.

"You do not make any sense-"

He cut her off. "I know who you are. You say your name is Djaq, but he is your brother. You are his twin, and your name is Saffiya."

At first, she was silent, and now was shaking her head, her voice almost a whisper. "How do you know this?"

"Your brother was killed by crusaders; you became him, you learned from your father, helped him on the battlefield. You disguise yourself as a Djaq, to keep yourself safe, to help your brother live on."

By now, both hands were gripping the bars of her makeshift prison, face pale in the moonlight, seemingly lost in concentration. Robin paused for a moment, to let the information sink in, before he continued on.

"Your Uncle is Bassam; he is a pigeon handler, for the Sultan. And more than anything, you want to stay there, and help handle the birds-"

"I do not understand," she cut him off. "How is it that you know all of this?"

"I told you," Robin knew he could not stop now. He knew that he was right, about all of this. He had to be. Even if he had somehow imagined all that had happened before, and had somehow imagined her, he could not, by any reasonable standard, fabricate an entire history for another that was as accurate as he had done here.

"I know who you are; I know you, Djaq," Robin continued. "You know me too…even if you don't remember. You have to trust me."

She shook her head, pulling back away from the bars. "I should not trust you. I should believe you mean me harm, for whatever reason you learned all that you know, for your own means. But for what, I cannot tell. I do not know why."

She was watching him now, and Robin was trying to find something to encourage her, to make her believe differently. He would help set her free, one way or another. Robin knew already that he could not leave her and the others to suffer such a fate.

"I became my brother; he was close to me, and I want to always be close to him. I ask myself, what he would have done, had he been here?" Djaq continued after a moment. She meet his gaze then, nodding towards him. "I think he would try and help."

It was what he wanted to hear. Robin couldn't help but smile, feeling a bit relieved. Yet there was still so much that had to be done. He glanced around, making sure they were still undetected, before continuing.

"I need to know where they keep the keys, so I can open the cells."

To this, she was shaking her head. "I was honest when I said before that you would know better. New guards each night, and they each have a key. I do not know if they are the same key, or if they all have one that is their own."

Robin nodded in understanding, glancing over his shoulder. While he might be able to take down a guard unsuspectingly, it was not the first choice of action he had in mind. He hadn't any idea how secure this place was, and how long he would have before one of the guards was noticed missing.

"I will return," he promised her, meeting her gaze one last time. He waited for her to nod before pulling away. He kept to the shadows, moving up through the village, back to the manor he had seen upon his arrival. It seemed to him that if he would find anything, he would find it here.

Finding a way in would be easy; all the focus of security had been on the slaves, on the cells, and the village itself. Yet no one seemed concerned with the possibility of someone infiltrating the manor. Most likely Lord Walter felt that such a thing wasn't even possible. After all, one would have to go at great lengths just to get in undetected. All of which Robin knew firsthand, and so he considered himself lucky that he been able to get this far without being seen.

He paused at the side of the manor, pulling his hood up to conceal his face. With another breath, he pulled free a hunting knife, forcing it between the shutters. A quick turn of the wrist, and he had a way in. And it was here he paused, almost smiling to himself as he sheathed his blade. He was almost starting to feel like his old self again.

The inside of the manor was dark, barely lit by twin candles that stood atop of a table in the middle of the room. Robin was careful, moving around the obstruction and into the next room, pausing to allow a moment for his eyes to adjust. Intuition told him that any object of value was kept close to the person who valued it. No doubt Lord Walter took extra precautions in protecting his investment. And Robin was certain he knew where to find the key.

He spent only enough time searching for what he needed. And with half a plan in mind, he made his way up to the top floor, where he suspected he would find the lord of the manor.

**TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks to kegel for the beta :)**

**Leave a review if you're reading! **

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><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

Lord Walter was not someone Robin could recall in his mind. Yet of course, of what he could remember, he had spent five years in the crusades, and the others in the forest. And even if that was not so, Robin highly doubted he had dealt much with the man. Walter did not appear to be someone who was overly social, according to what Gisborne had told him of earlier.

So it was of little surprise for Robin when he finally came upon the room. All was dark save for the moonlight that shone through the open window, a chill in the air from the breeze that wafted through. The pale moonlight stretched across the room, illuminating the bed with the sleeping form.

With soft, measured steps, Robin drew near. The bedside table was the first place he checked, sliding open the door slowly, hands rummaging through the contents, hoping to accidentally brush the cold metal that would signal a key of some sorts. Yet there was none and he pulled back, a frown on his face as he searched the rest of the room quickly. If he was to hide something of value, where would he keep it?

He could hear the man grumble, muttering something in his sleep and rolling to one side. Robin took a quick step back, bow in hand and ready to fire as he brought it up defensively. A few tense moments passed, before the heavy snoring resumed. Robin merely shook his head, and went back to searching the room.

He knelt now, hand brushing against the floor, checking for a loose board. There were several in Locksley, he knew, though he hadn't bothered to hide much of anything there. Other lords, he knew, would hide money inside, perhaps something passed down throughout their family line that was of value. There was nothing quite of that value in his possession; he was not one to horde trinkets. But perhaps Walter did not think as he did.

Robin slid his knife between the boards, giving them an experimental tug, smiling when one popped loose. He grasped it with one hand, sliding it out of place and gently laying it down so it would make no noise. Reaching in he felt with slow, gentle movements. There was indeed a purse down there, several from what he could feel. Coins, it seemed, but no key...

Again the man above him moved in his sleep, Robin holding still until all was quiet once more. He placed the board back, testing the others nearby, but found nothing else. He stayed where he was, frowning as he thought things through. If the key was not here, then were else could it be? He did not have all the time in the world, but neither could he rush things. If he failed...he did not want to think of what would happen.

It would mean coming back another night. Maybe several nights; that would be the smartest of decisions. The safest, no doubt, but also the most disappointing. He would have to find Djaq, would have to trust that she understood what he was going to do. He had to hold to the hope that she would trust he would return. Would have to trust she would not say anything...

Walter was moving again, more incoherent sounds as he rolled over. He was beginning to wake up. Robin strung his bow once more, moving to his full height. Inside his chest his heart hammered, and he prayed his disguise would work. What would he say if it did not?

"Joe, that you?" Walter wondered, sitting up. The man was still waking up, rubbing tired eyes as he came to. Then he looked up, met Robin's gaze, and froze.

"What the-?"

"Do not make a sound," Robin threatened, pulling the arrow back a little further. He had dropped his voice, doing his best to disguise it. There was no telling if he had met the man before, and he could not risk being known. If the sheriff ever found out...

It was an odd thought; he had long ago grown accustomed to the sheriff knowing of what he had done. Had made it a point to drop his name so that others would speak of it. But that was in a different time, another world. It was not so here. Here he risked so much more than just his life. He risked the people of his village, the people that worked in his manor, and Marian.

It was the one reason he had donned the fabric down below. It was nothing more than a black scarf, worn and old, no doubt belonging to one of the serfs that took care of the manor. Unfolded it was large enough to cover his face, and he had cut slits in order to see through the material. Tied behind his head, and hood drawn to cover his face, there was little left to identify him.

"Tell me where the key is," Robin continued, using the same voice as before. There was no hint of recognition on the man's face and so it gave him more courage.

"Over my dead body," the man growled, not even attempting to pretend he didn't know what Robin was speaking of.

"That could be arranged."

"All I have to do is call my guards," Walter pointed out. "You are in no position to bargain-"

"How long would it take them to get here?" Robin wondered. "A full minute, maybe two? Longer even?"

He hadn't seen any guards in the house. Doubted they were even there. Serfs maybe, but they were fast asleep and would not hear the call right away. That left the rest of the guards outside, and even if they heard the first time, it would still take them several minutes to make it all the way to the top floor. In that amount of time, Robin would be long gone.

That realization was now showing up on Walter's face. Robin decided to press his luck even further. "Now tell me, how long would it take for this arrow to reach your heart? Or maybe your throat? Have you ever see a man try and talk with an arrow in his throat? I have; it's not a pretty sight."

Whether he had seen it in war or simply in dreams he could no longer say. But he didn't need to believe he had; he just needed for Walter to believe it. And believing it he was. There was a look of sheer panic on the man's face.

"You see," Robin continued, taking a step closer, "I wouldn't even have to kill you. Just hurt you, nothing serious. I know exactly where to shoot a man to cause a great deal of pain with little harm. And if you don't tell me where the key is tonight, then I will come again. Not tomorrow, but maybe the next night. Or next week. Or even a month from now. Your guards did not see me come in tonight. They will not see me return on any other night either. So the choice is yours. You can tell me where the key is, and keep everything intact, or we can play a bit of a game. What do you think?"

"It's in the safe," Walter confessed quickly, motioning with his head behind one of the curtains. Robin smiled. Of course he really hadn't intended to do any of the things he had just said, but that wasn't the point. What he needed was the cooperation, and it was what he was getting at the current moment.

"Get it for me?" He waited half a moment before frowning. "That was not a request, it was an order."

"Yes, of course," Walter nodded, slowly hauling himself out of bed. He was a large man, revealing in his wealth. He hobbled quickly over to where he had indicated, pulling the curtain back. Hidden behind it was a metal plate, bolted with a lock. Walter was quick in producing another key, fumbling with it for a moment before it opened up. A moment later he held up another larger key, offering it to Robin with a shaking hand.

"If I find out that you are lying to me-"

"I'm not!" Walter protested.

"If I find out you are lying," Robin started again, "I promise you I will come back."

"It is no lie, this is the key."

"Give it to me."

Walter nodded, swallowing hesitantly before stepping forward. One step, then another, and he was almost touching Robin's bow. That was when he moved. Robin dropped the arrow, brought up the bow and caught the unsuspecting man squarely in the chin. The man seemed shocked, before stumbling and finally sinking to the ground, unconscious.

Robin checked for a pulse, glad to find it steady, and tucked the key in his pocket, before moving to tie the man up. He used the curtains from the wall, tying the man to the bed, and making sure he was gagged as well. Walter would not be out for long, and when he came to, he would not be a very happy man. But with any luck, the guards would not dare to disturb their lord until the morning. That gave Robin more than enough time.

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><p>Much was surprised to see him. Most likely because of his quick return. Robin had secured the key, had seen to Djaq one last time, before climbing back over the wall. He had a way to free the slaves, but now he needed a plan to ensure their safety. Much was alone with the horses, a realization that caused him to frown as he pulled free the scarf.<p>

"Where is Allan?"

Much simply shrugged in response. "He said he to take care of 'business'. That was almost twenty minutes ago. He probably went back home. He's probably sleeping, in my bed, no doubt. When we get back I am kicking him out; I am not sleeping on the floor."

Robin let out a gruff sigh, shaking his head at Much. "He did not go back to Locksley," he cursed.

"Where else would he go?"

"He ran off, Much," Robin explained, frustrated now. He could hardly blame Much; Allan had taken his first chance at freedom, and gone off. He should have known better. Now all of this would be that much harder.

"Well, it is good that he did. He does not belong with the likes of us. He is a thief, after all. He does not follow the law like we do."

"You do realize what we are doing here is not exactly following the law, right?"

To this Much blinked, but said nothing. Robin shook his head again, turning back to look at the village before him. "I need a distraction."

He could not use Much; the man would be recognized, and it would not be long before Robin would be answering for all that took place. His original plan had been to use Allan. To disguise him and send him to the gates, acting as a man in trouble. The man always had been good at trickery, plus he was already known as a thief. No suspicion would have fallen on Robin then.

The gates would have been open, and Robin would have been ready. While Allan played his tricks, the cages would be opened, the slaves would run, and the confusion would begin. The guards could not keep them all at bay. Robin would slip out amongst them, disappear into the night with both Allan and Much. He would send Allan away for a few days, hope the man would return, and meet up with Djaq later. He already had told her where to go. He could only hope she would listen.

Now with Allan gone, he was facing a serious problem. How to get the gates open. He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. Then he turned to Much.

"Whatever happens, do not let yourself be seen," Robin told him. "Hide here in the forest, wait ten minutes and cause a ruckus. Yell, scream, whatever you might have to do. Scare the horses even. Make as much noise as you can."

"Whatever for?"

"We need them to get the gates open."

"Why?"

"To get the slaves out," Robin let out a sigh. Surely it couldn't be that hard to understand.

"What? You really are letting them go?"

"Of course," he was frowning now. Why else did the man think they were here for?

"I thought-"

"Do not let yourself be seen," Robin warned him once more. "And if you are-" he paused, trying to think of something. Robin swallowed. "If you are caught, tell them you were attacked by thieves. Tell them you were coming back from Nottingham when you were attacked, and forced to come this way."

They were close enough to the road for it to be believable. And at night it was even more plausible. What wasn't was the reason why Much was out in the middle of the night alone, with three horses.

"Tell them the horses bolted, and you and I were tracking them down, and we became separated."

That was a reasonable explanation. He looked up, meeting Much's gaze, who nodded in confirmation. "But only if you are caught. Try to not let that happen."

Robin pulled the scarf back on, making sure it was on tight before pulling his hood up once more. "Ten minutes, remember."

* * *

><p>It was the third time that night he had climbed the rope. His head was starting to swim again, his muscles aching as he lowered himself down on the other side. Robin gave himself only a handful of seconds before pushing on. He had to be ready when the commotion started, the chance at success was small, and he was placing a lot of trust on simple hope. Hope that Much would do as he asked, hope that the guards would respond as he planned, and hope the slaves would fight their way out.<p>

There were many things that could go wrong. Much could do nothing; he was not the same man Robin remembered. Not as daring, and nowhere near as loyal as he was before. And even if he did, how well was the man at lying? He could keep a secret well enough, Robin guessed, musing over the secrets he was keeping for Marian. But when faced directly? How long before he was admitting to everything?

He pushed those thoughts aside. Now was not the place for doubts. The guards were still as unconcerned as they were before, not even noticing the cloaked figure that ran between the shadows. Djaq was waiting for him, relief etched on her face as he arrived.

"They must wait," he told her, even as he slid the key into the lock. "Tell them all to wait, if you go too soon, you will not get out."

"You want us to stay in here?" she asked incredulously. "To stay prisoners?"

"For a little longer," Robin agreed. "You must trust me. You will get out of here, but if you go before the gates are open, they will stay closed. You will be caught again, and I will not be able to help you a second time. Tell them."

She nodded after a time, moving away from him, staying low to the ground as she moved across the cage. There were silent whispers moving from one to the next, even as Robin moved to unlock the second, then the third. There were eight in all, and as he opened the last, the commotion started.

Robin found himself smiling, a bit of relief coming to him. The first part of the plan had worked. Now he could only hope the rest would follow. He shook his head as Djaq looked at him expectantly, hands on the door that kept her from stepping into her freedom. Robin pointed towards the gate that was still closed and she nodded in understanding.

The guards were leaving the slaves, moving towards the door. Robin held out a hand, halting her movements. Just a little longer now...

He smelt it first, and then the fire burst to life. It was past the cages, towards the back of the manor. A pile of hay was consumed by the flames, illuminating the area around them. He cursed, pulling back into the shadows as the guards turned their way. There were shouts for water, to put the flames out. In the flickering light Robin could see a second arrow come soaring over, striking the thatch of manor. It too caught fire, burning with a vengeance. Robin swore again moving towards Djaq.

"Go now!" he shouted towards her and the others, waving a hand. They did not need a second invitation. In fact several had already bolted, scared by the flames that were working their way. Djaq was leading the way, and he grabbed her by the arm. She fought against him, yelling as he pulled her back.

"Promise you will meet me?" He pleaded, ignoring the angry look she gave him. "Promise me!"

"I promise!" she agreed, and he let her go. She did not turn back, melting instead into the crowd that was racing towards their freedom. The gates were not open yet, but he had feeling they would be soon. He turned his attention back to the manor, seeing that most of it was engulfed. He moved towards it quickly.

Another arrow came down, nearly striking him in the process. He yelled, more in surprise than anything else, but kept pushing on. There were men carrying buckets, trying in vain to douse the flames. But Treeton had only a small well located at the other end. It would do no good.

"Get Lord Walter out!" he called out, ordering some of guards who were simply watching the chaos unfold. They started quickly, not even realizing it was a masked man that had given them orders. Robin knew he could not stay long. Whoever was attacking had stopped, for no more arrows came over, but the damage was already done. The manor was nearly engulfed, and already the fire was licking at the edges of the cages that held the slaves prisoner. There would be no going back now.

Robin tore a bit of cloth from his cape, wrapped it around the head of an arrow. It was easy to find an unattended flame, and he let the cloth burn until it was strong and fierce. Then stringing his bow he moved towards the center of the village; right where the mines were. He let the arrow fly, readying a second and doing the same, as well as a third. Then he left as quickly as he came.

The iron ore would burn, just as it had before, the mines would be inoperable once again. The gate was open, rather destroyed, and unguarded. Most of the men had either fled, or gone to help where they could. He paused there, turning back to watch the scene before him. He could see the guards stumble out, Lord Walter in between them. Could hear the man cursing. He was alive. Robin let out a breath, knowing that was his cue to leave.

He raced across the forest, relieved to find Much still waiting for him. The man was watching the village with wide eyes, mouth open. "What has happened?"

Robin turned, pulling free the scarf and dropping it to the ground. Even from here he could see the flames, the bright light filling the sky. That he could not answer. Who would have fired upon the village like that?

"What do you think? And that was all with three arrows! Am I good or what?"

"You!?" Much yelled even as Robin turned.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Allan held up his hands in surprise. "I thought you might need a distraction," he shook his head. "I overheard some guards talking about it once, always wanted to give it a try. Not a bad shot if I say so myself," he held up his hand that was short of fingers.

"You almost shot me," Robin frowned. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be angry, or simply relieved the man had come back. "Not to mention kill everyone in there."

"And I suppose you had a better plan?"

"Yes," Robin answered. "One that did not involve destroying the entire village." He was about to continue arguing, but more voices could be heard. No doubt it was the others evacuating. They could not be found here. Quickly Robin mounted, motioning the others to do the same. Within moments they were riding away, leaving the fire behind.

**TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks to kegel for the beta! **

**Leave a review!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

Things hadn't gone exactly how he had planned; but the slaves were free, the mines were destroyed, and as far as he knew, no one had been killed. That, Robin had decided, was a good thing. The trio had gone away from Treeton, further into the forest before swinging back around and returning to Locksley. They saw no one on their way, the horses were cared for quickly and the three had gone off to bed.

He slept hard, but when he did wake, it was with a smile. The sun had risen some time ago, as evident by the warmth against his skin and the shaft of light that snuck through the curtains. He still felt worn, his body sore from the endeavor that had taken place last night, but Robin hardly noticed any of that. For the first time for as long as he could recall, he felt happy.

It was an unfamiliar mood, but a welcomed one as he slowly pulled himself out of bed. He was alone, not something that was a surprise given the hour of the morning. No doubt Marian was well awake and onto the daily chores.

At the thought of Marian he found himself stopping, sitting on the edge of the bed. What was he going to do about Marian? He did not have much time left to figure out a solution. The sheriff would demand answers, answers he could not yet give. Could never give…

Robin shook himself from his thoughts at the quarrel downstairs. He could hear a mixture of raised voices, all taking place within his own house. Robin quickly moved to his feet, snatching an undershirt and pulling it over his head just moments before the door opened. He met Much's worried look with a frown, shaking his head.

"Well?"

"Gisborne is asking for you," the man replied breathlessly. "About last night."

It was no wonder that Much was shaken. Robin could only hope the man hadn't given away anything important. He had sworn both the men to silence the night before, but he could not say how long that would last. Robin hoped that anything the man said or did would be passed over by Gisborne as insolence.

"What should I say to him?"

"Nothing," Robin replied as he finished dressing. "I will speak to him myself."

And he did not wait long. Gisborne was standing near the door, a frown marring his features as Robin came down the stairs. There was a slight sneer on his face when he saw him.

"I hope you are faring better."

"You think I was ill?"

"Lady Marian suggested you may have been. Seems you have overslept."

"I did not sleep well last night," Robin shrugged it off easily, following Gisborne outside. The man's horse was ready, as was his own. He did not need an invitation, Robin simply mounted and followed Gisborne's lead away from the village. Where they were going, he wasn't sure. There hadn't been much time to ask questions.

"Neither did Lord Walter," Gisborne mentioned, once they had left the village behind. "Nor the sheriff; I hope you have some sort of compensation for him."

"What do you mean?" Robin wondered, feigning innocence. He knew well what Gisborne was referring to. No doubt Walter had not wasted any time in going to the sheriff about what had taken place. But what exactly had Walter told them? That he had seen a man in a mask? It left very little detail, and would be almost impossible to place blame on just anyone.

"There was a break in at the mines; Lord Walter was robbed of his keys, and the slaves were set free. And the mines destroyed; half the village was set on fire."

"What?" Robin played his part well. He could not indicate even the slightest knowledge about what had taken place, lest it put him under suspicion. "How could this have even been accomplished? I thought Treeton had good secure means in keeping intruders out."

"As did we all," Gisborne muttered, "It seems though that it was not enough. The sheriff is requesting your presence immediately. We should not keep him waiting. There is time for idle talk later, but I felt you should at least be warned."

"Warned, about what?"

"According to Lord Walter, the Nightwatchman was behind the attack."

Robin came up short, feeling his heart seize. Of course...a man in mask...how foolish could he be? How could anyone think differently? He had donned the disguise to protect himself, and in doing so he had put Marian in even more danger than he thought possible.

Until now all the Nightwatchman did was help others. Brought them food, medicine, supplies, whatever they might need. The Nightwatchman robbed the stores, maybe took some money, but that was all. A nuisance, until last night. Last night, the Nightwatchman had become deadly.

"But the Nightwatchman has never harmed anyone," Robin forced his voice to stay steady. He told himself that everything would be fine. They were going off of the assumption it was the Nightwatchman. But what proof did they have? The words of a man who had just lost everything?

"Apparently he's progressing," Gisborne responded. He stopped his steed, turning towards Robin. "I normally would be the first to agree with you. This seems too...brazen for the likes of a common criminal. But they found his mask; seems like he was in a hurry to get out of there."

Robin cursed; what had he done? Gisborne was frowning, watching him. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Robin replied crisply, moving past the other. "I've been tracking the Nightwatchman for a while," he lied, doing his best to disguise his frustration. "Yet he alludes me as he does everyone else."

"You better have a better explanation for the sheriff than that," Gisborne warned. He was silent for a moment, riding abreast of Robin as they made their way towards Nottingham. Robin hadn't the slightest idea of what he would say. The sheriff would be furious. He would demand results; would demand some sort of compensation. What was he going to do?

"I have a solution," Gisborne interrupted his thoughts. "We have the mask, we'll send hounds after the scent. Whoever wore the mask the night before, they'll find him. I will tell the sheriff the idea was yours."

Robin said nothing, his throat tight as he nodded. He knew exactly where the hounds would go. And how would explain himself? He could take off for the forest now. Robin held the element of surprise. He would be away before Gisborne even knew what was happening. But what about the others? Much and Allan were still back at the manor, as was Marian. He could not get to them all in time. And if he did, would they even follow?

He could not leave; he could not endanger the others. He would have to find a way out of this. There was no other choice. And the feeling he had just that morning, the warmth from the happiness, had dissipated into a cruel disappointment, and hardened into a cold fear.

* * *

><p>The dogs were brought out at Gisborne's request, even though it was said the idea was his. Why Gisborne was so intent on making sure the credit went to him, he could not say. Neither was it the time to ask, not that could even muster the ability to do so. His throat was dry, heart hammering in his chest as he climbed the stairs. The sheriff was up there too, a sour look on his face, as was Lord Walter.<p>

The man scowled at him, but there was no hint of recognition, for which Robin was grateful. He acknowledged them both with a nod as he reached the top, moving to stand near them, hands clasped behind his back.

"When we find the man responsible," Lord Walter spat out, "I want to be the first to greet him. I want him to suffer."

"Oh he will," Vaysey replied calmly, "Locksley made it his personal duty to see that the Nightwatchman is brought to justice. The man will hang once he is caught."

"Hang?!" the man was outraged, turning on the sheriff. "He will do more than that. Tie him up, skewer him with arrows, burn him up...make him suffer through what I had to suffer through."

"Inventive," the sheriff laughed at Walter's suggestion. "I like it. What do you think, Locksley? We can have ourselves a little bit of fun before we hang him."

Robin managed a nod, watching as the first of the dogs were brought in. "Whatever must be done."

"Really no fun with that one," Vaysey waved it off as no big deal. "He's been a little...how do we say it," the sheriff circled one finger around his head, before letting out a laugh.

There was no response from him, heart hammering in his chest as even more dogs were brought in. How many had Gisborne called for? He could count half a dozen already, and still more could be heard from beyond the gates.

"Quite a clever idea, I must admit," the sheriff grinned, holding up the scarf just then. "The dogs will follow the scent, and the Nightwatchman will be on the run. Tell me, Locksley, how did you ever think of it?"

"A simple idea, really. It just came to me," he would take no praise on the matter. It would not be the Nightwatchman on the run, but rather him. The scarf the sheriff held was the one he had used just the night before. It was the one reason Walter did not recognize him as the one behind the attack. But now the blame had been placed on Marian, the Nightwatchman. For the moment she was safe; the sheriff did not suspect her. But how long after they discovered Robin was the responsible party would it be before they went after her?

"Well, get to it then," Vaysey held the scarf out to him, and Robin stepped forward, gripping the material with sweaty hands. He ran it through his fingers, watching the fabric crease and fold as he started down the stairs. Was this it? Was this how he was to die? He was searching for the one responsible for the destruction the night before, he was searching for himself.

With a shaky breath he knelt down in front of one of the dogs, the animal straining on its leash. At first the dog was more interested in Robin himself than he was in the bit of fabric, but the man holding his lead pulled him back as Robin held it up.

There was still a way out this; there had to be a way out of this. His mind was working, trying to find a desperate solution. He had his knife with him, but even that would prove futile against a pack of dogs, and it was not like he could outrun them. Could he talk his way out of this? Could he admit to have been there, maybe even go as far as saying he was tracking the Nightwatchman...but no. He had already feigned surprised about what had happened at Treeton; there was no way they would believe that lie.

Each of the dogs were crowding around him now, making it all that more difficult to breathe. With a sharp command from their owner the dogs pulled back, doing their best to lock onto the scent. They were hunting dogs, capable of picking up any kind of smell. They plodded around the courtyard, Gisborne watching from above, seated atop a horse in case the animals should take sudden pursuit.

Some of the dogs followed a meager trail, before stopping and panting happily, while others followed it back to Robin. Again the cloth was given, again they were pulled off, only to return a third time. Behind him he could hear the sheriff scoff.

"Why is it not working?"

"It could mean nothing," Gisborne answered. "The Nightwatchman has not been to the castle; we'll take the dogs to the villages, have them search there."

Robin felt himself breathe, could feel his heart slow. They did not realize...he was quick to use the opportunity.

"Or they cannot get the scent," Robin turned to look up at Gisborne. "Who else has handled this?"

"A few guards," the man admitted, "Lord Walter, the sheriff, myself included. And you..."

"And with all that mishandling, you've masked the scent...how are they expected to know what scent to follow? He could lead us right to one of your guards, to one of us, the sheriff even. How would they know any better?"

"Gisborne," the sheriff's voice was thin. "You did not take that into account, did you?"

The man was silent for a moment before answering in a negative. Yet he was quick in trying to redeem himself. "At least we've hindered the Nightwatchman for a time. He won't risk going out without that disguise."

"It's a scarf with a couple of holes in it, Gisborne," the man pointed out. "Hardly a work of art."

"What about my revenge?" Walter broke into the conversation. "I want compensation!"

"And you will get it," the sheriff answered, meeting Robin's gaze. "You will get it, one way or another."

It was a threat, one he picked up easily. If he did not produce the Nightwatchman soon, then he would pay for it himself. Robin glanced down at the scarf in his hands, realizing how close he had come to paying for it today. From now on, he had to be more careful; this was a deadly game he was playing. A very deadly game.

* * *

><p>He had been forced to stay for a time, taking a meal with the sheriff and Gisborne, as well as Walter as they discussed the possible future for Treeton. The outlook was grim, the mines suffering vast damage from the fire, but Walter was ever hopeful they could be salvaged somehow. It was doubtful, but Robin of course did not say anything to that matter.<p>

Instead he reassured the lord that the Nightwatchman would be dealt with, promising compensation however false it was. He had no intention of doing any of the things he had said. That would be his secret however, and when the sheriff finally dismissed him, Robin wasted no time in departing from the Great Hall.

Yet he had hardly made it outside when Gisborne called to him from behind. The man was following, Robin slowing his pace so he could catch up. The sun held high overhead, signaling that was it near noon. He did not have a whole lot of time left; Djaq would be waiting for him, if she had kept to her word, that was.

He had given the slaves what little he could provide, had sent them on their way to the abbey. But he had appealed to Djaq, had requested she meet him later. She had given him her promise, but the time of the meeting had already come and gone, and he wondered just how long she would stay and wait for him. Or if she had done so at all...

"I am sorry, Robin," Gisborne apologized, bringing him up short. Why was the man even apologizing to him? "It was a good plan, but I did not think things all the way through. It was not my intention to portray you as a fool, especially in front of the sheriff."

"Oh," Robin caught on, nodding his head. There was little else he could say; the plan had worked, the dogs following the scent right back to him, but the others hadn't even for a moment considered this a possibility. So rather instead it had been seen as a failed attempt. But he could not say so here, forcing a smile instead.

"We will find another way, do not worry."

"And I will help," Gisborne offered, leaning against one of the pillars. "The Nightwatchman was lucky to escape last night, but he will not be so lucky next time. When is it that the sheriff wants you to have him by?"

"The end of the month," Robin replied dully. The deadline was forever on his mind, for even now he had no idea of what he would do. He would not turn her in, but the Nightwatchman had to be stopped, and he feared that was something she would not give up.

"A week," Gisborne mused. "That does not leave much time. I will speak with the sheriff, get him to agree to an extension. I can bring him to reason; no doubt the Nightwatchman will be in hiding after the stunt he pulled last night. You'll need more time."

"Why are you so willing to cover for me?" Robin could stand it no longer.

This was not the Gisborne he knew. The one he remembered was more than willing to let him fall, had even gone as far as to blame him for things that were by no faults his own. But had any of that actually happened? It was a difficult idea to support for the simple fact he was standing here, and keeping company with the sheriff. But Robin was at a point where he no longer knew what was truth and what had been a lie.

"Do not be a fool," Gisborne warned him, his voice dropping into a whisper. He took a step, closing the gap that was between him, grabbing a hold of his upper arm. Robin backpedaled, more out of instinct than anything else, but Gisborne held him tight, stilling him with his words.

"Do you have any idea what would happen to Marian should you fail? I do not do this for you; I do it for her."

He did not know what would happen to her, but he could rightly assume, and that frightened him. But worse was the fact of what would happen if he was successful. Yet it seemed as though she was to be blamed either way unless he was to come up with an alternative. Robin tried to push the other man away, but Gisborne kept a firm grip on him.

"You may think you can pretend ignorance with the sheriff, but that will not save you, nor will it protect her."

"Let go of me," Robin warned, pulling away. Gisborne did let go this time, but the same dark expression was on his face.

"I will buy you more time, but you must come up with a reasonable solution."

He said nothing to that, turning to head down the stairs, wasting no time in his departure. The only time he looked back was when he mounted, glancing over to find that Gisborne was still watching him. Robin nudged his horse, focusing his attention back front as he rode out there, his mind awash with new worries.

**TBC**


End file.
